Paragon
by FastFoodFanfiction
Summary: Jaune Arc is a Paragon groomed from young to inherit one of the most prestigious positions in Vale: Royal Bodyguard and Princess Consort. Only problem? He wants to be a Hero. Based on Forged Destiny by Coeur Al'Aran. OOC Jaune.
1. Prologue

**A/N**

**A bug bit me while I read Forged Destiny by Coeur Al'Aran and refused to let go until I acted upon it.**

**Reading Forged Destiny isn't necessary to read this, but it might help.**

**Features fairly OOC Jaune. Pretty much Jaune in name only.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY, and I also don't own Coeur's fantastic RWBY fanfiction "Forged Destiny."**

Prologue.

What made a hero?

His weapons, his armor? A fine, pristine steed, a feathered helmet? Or was it what lay within— Bravery? Cunning? Sacrifice?

Jaune Arc didn't know, but he knew he wasn't one. He intended to rectify that.

Paragon.

He stared at the word denoting his class hovering above his coiffed blonde hair. Perfection. Epitome. Unerring.

His eyes traced the man in the mirror. A starkly handsome face stared back at him, sharp edges framing blue eyes, the wisps of a sneer resting on his thin lips. A face chiseled from years of training, a face crafted as meticulously as the rest of his image.

Jaune Arc, Paragon, Princess Consort. The Invincible Boy. Future Royal Bodyguard. Future King of Vale.

He loathed it.

Bound to the throne, bound to the machinations of puppeteering nobles, bound to the whims of Heroes and NPCs alike. He'd inherit power, sure— but also a crushing responsibility and the lingering weight of royal blood.

Forever above, forever superior, forever regal… forever alone. Forever chained. Forever protecting the Queen, forever a mere functionary in greater Vale politics.

He fingered the amulet in his palm before delicately sliding it over his head. His title shimmered before Paragon morphed to something lesser, yet more freeing.

Knight.

An ordinary Hero.

A sigh escaped his lips. Moonlight wafting through the open window above the mirror spilled onto him, shrouding him in cold comfort. Tonight was the night he'd break out of the castle and travel to the city of Vale. Hero initiation at Beacon began tomorrow. With any luck, he'd be safely ensconced in Beacon's walls before the King could reel him back.

The door opened, admitting a small figure. Straight auburn hair adorned an adolescent girl with pretty, regal features. Daphne, Princess Consort, his intended, and soon to be his accomplice.

"Jaune?" she whispered. He turned, taking in her eyes which wavered in the moonlight. A stab lanced through his chest, but he ignored the sensation.

"Are you ready?" He said.

She nodded. "The patrolling guards tonight are rotating in three minutes, leaving only those guarding the gates. You can sneak through there."

"Thanks, Daph." Something churned in his stomach. She looked aside, as though unable to face him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm more sure of this than anything I've done since I've arrived here," he breathed, eyes flashing. "The royal court tries to mold me into something they want me to be. Every day I'm told what I should be, what I should do, how I should behave. I hate it. Do you have any idea how isolating that is? I've been here for four years and I don't have a friend!"

The last sentence came out in a strangled hiss, and Daphne lowered her gaze further. His heart sank. "Daph— I don't mean— okay, I've made one friend. You're the only person worth speaking to."

A small figure collided into him, knocking him to the wall. Daphne buried her head into him, lacing her arms around him in a hug. He froze, his arms awkwardly splayed around him, before slowly reciprocating, bringing her into a close embrace. Years had passed since anyone had hugged him. He didn't know how to react.

"Maybe you'd have more if you weren't so…" she paused. "Prickly."

"Is that what the nobles call me?" he laughed. "I was under the impression they'd labelled me Vale Castle's resident asshole. Those incompetent, scheming, treacherous—"

She put a finger to his lips before lowering it slowly, resting her arms in his embrace. They stayed that way for a while.

"Is staying really so bad?" she whispered. "We could get married. You'd be king." And then, her voice barely audible through his tunic— "am I— am I really so undesirable?"

"It's not you," Jaune said, resting his head on hers. "I just… I can't." His voice faded, broken in the cool air.

She looked up at him, and the vision almost broke his resolve. Her hair was mussed and frayed, red creeping into the corners of her eyes, but the moonlight caught her features in an ethereal veil. His heart skipped a step.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, leaving naught but a fraught silence. A cracked voice cut through it. It took a moment for him to realize it was his.

"I'm sorry."

She turned away from him. "I'll plead with father not to pursue you," she said, her voice wavering. "But the media will have a field day."

He barked a laugh. "They don't know what I look like. And with this amulet—" he gestured to his chest— "they might never. Even the King's influence has limits. He wouldn't dare abduct me from the premier Hero academy in Vale. More likely he'll quietly replace me with someone else. Nobody would be any the wiser."

Beneath him, heavy armor creaked as the guards changed for the graveyard shift. Leaping to the windowsill and sliding a leg over, he prepared to descend.

"Goodbye, Jaune."

The earth below appeared a gaping chasm, its maw stretching into the dark. If he dropped, there'd be no coming back. He doubted the King would take kindly to deserters, even those with pinnacle Prestige classes.

"Goodbye."

The wind whistled as his body scythed toward the ground. He didn't look back.

The sound of leather boots impacting the ground was muffled by soft grass.

Two walls lay between him and freedom, each manned by two soldiers at the gates. He'd decided to travel light, and so clothed himself in a black-and-gray ensemble of leather and silk, hardly optimal when faced with rending steel.

A dagger lay in a holster by his side, crafted of the finest silver and engraved with shimmering runes. It'd been a gift from the King himself. Ironic. Jaune hoped he didn't have to use it.

He moved with the casual grace of a trained warrior, the thump of each step mitigated by a flexing of the feet. In an instant, he closed the distance between him and the first wall.

The guards faced outward, their eyes trained on the periphery. They wouldn't notice him until he stood beside them.

Closing his eyes, he called up his stats.

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Jaune Arc

Level 46

Paragon

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STR: 207 (A)

CON: 207 (A)

DEX: 207 (A)

AGI: 207 (A)

INT: 207 (A)

WIS: 207 (A)

CHA: 207 (A)

RES: 207 (A)

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Passive Skill

**-The One Above All-**

His presence generates immense pressure upon all marked enemies. Scales with level.

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Active Skills

**[Perfect Strike]**

A strike which targets weaknesses with precision.

**[Paragon's Might]**

An ability which increases STR, CON, DEX, AGI for brief spurts.

**[Void Rend]**

A powerful attack which tears space as it strikes.

**[Blade of the Sky]**

A wide-ranging blow which covers a massive radius.

**[Earthly Manacles]**

A constricting aura which lashes targets in place.

**[Shield of the Heavens]**

A protective shroud.

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For this, he only needed his passive. In his mind, the figures of the two guards blazed red, the marker of an enemy.

They collapsed, shuddering. A massive and unseen force pressed down upon them, stripping them of any agency over their bodies. One of them raised a helmeted head in a vain attempt to call for help. All that passed through his lips was a warbling squeal.

An aptly placed strike under the chin dropped the guard. His fellow sentry collapsed a moment later. Perfect Strike was unnecessary on riffraff. Upper-rank Soldiers they might be, but the chasm between a Prestige Class Hero and a Soldier was insurmountable.

Freedom lurked only a gate away, beckoning to him through the dark. He advanced.

The guards manning the next gate, to their credit, noticed him before he could incapacitate them. His approaching form caught the orange glow of torches strapped to the wall, illuminating his shock of blonde hair. Their eyes widened. One moved to sound an alarm.

Unfortunately for them, closing the distance and launching two Perfect Strikes took Jaune a fraction of a second. Their bodies slumped to the stone castle walls like puppets with torn strings.

He breathed in the cool night air, the scent of a future clear of the desires of others. He was his own man, now, and he'd be a Hero.

A black-and-gray streak blurred across the road, melding into the darkness, heading at a blistering pace for Vale and Beacon.

**A/N**

**Jaune is heavily OOC. Raised as the best, he's become arrogant and haughty. Don't worry! He won't be like this forever. His character growth will feature heavily in the next two books.**

**I've planned out a first book. If it works out, I'll continue this into a second. All credit for the world and most of the characters goes to Coeur Al'Aran. Without him, I wouldn't have dipped so much as a toe into this fandom.**

**The plot will follow Coeur's somewhat closely until the end of Book 2- ish.**


	2. Book 1, Chapter 1

**A/N Snippets of Ruby's dialogue were taken from Coeur's chapter 2. Ozpin's and Glynda's speeches were lifted in similar fashion, though with slight modifications to fix grammar errors and tighten prose. I don't think rewriting the headmaster's speech is necessary in a fanfiction that has barely diverged from the Canon fanfic as of yet.**

**Thus far, not too many drastic changes— just Jaune's attitude which, even now, begins to tinge on arrogance. This will be addressed later on. **

**Also, Jaune looks different from Canon Jaune to better fit his place in the story. He's somewhat of a male equivalent of Pyrrha in looks, skill, and stature, though he's allowed some of that to get to his head. As addressed before, this Jaune is drastically different from Jaune in Canon.**

**Thanks to the reviewers pointing out inconsistencies! I'll endeavor to fix them as fast as I can. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY, and I also don't own Coeur's fantastic RWBY fanfiction "Forged Destiny."**

He arrived at a colorful sign which read "Welcome to Vale!" in bold font as the sun rose. Hours had passed since his escape, but there were no signs of pursuit. Either Daphne had cautioned the King against recapturing him, or the forces in pursuit had noticed his absence hours too late. In any case, he welcomed the opportunity to blend into the morning humdrum, a thirty-minute yawn of a vibrant city beginning to wake. People trickled to the streets, and shops along either side of the cobblestone road flicked "CLOSED" signs to "OPEN."

As he picked his way through the crowd, bouquets of multicolored flowers caught his eye, hanging from every windowsill and finding purchase in corners of otherwise drab walls. Ribbons and streamers hung above, offering congratulatory or welcoming messages to new recruits. The re-opening of Vale's premier Hero academy was a city-wide event, and the populace intended to celebrate it.

Sighing, he took a moment to gather himself. Escaping meant leaving behind most of his possessions, including his sword and shield, two armaments too clunky to bear in the event of a prolonged footrace. All he had was an inconspicuous black top, gray pants, and a sheathed knife hanging from a holster tied to his belt. 11,000 lien laid nestled beneath his shirt. The money provided tactile reassurance. He was not without resources. He could do this.

The trickle of people grew to a stream, which burst to a raging torrent. Prospective students mingled with the crowd, jostling about, carrying suitcases upon suitcases of material. More than a few worried creases marred their brows. Understandable. This day would determine their fate for not only the next four years, but possibly the rest of their lives. Succeed in trials, and a promising future as a Beacon Hero was all but guaranteed. Fail, and be relegated to the doldrums of the Soldier caste, forever at the beck and call of commanding officers.

Jaune didn't consider the possibility of failure. Instead, he focused on hiding his abilities. A knight was no Paragon. Their dexterity was a mark below, their agility several tiers inferior, and their wisdom and intelligence incomparable. Relying too much on aura-based or magic-based attacks would draw unwanted attention. Extensive use of ranged abilities might reveal himself as well. Half of his active skills went out the window.

Sighing again, he rounded a corner, and the marble spires of Beacon slid into view. Vale Castle may have been impressive, but Beacon belonged in a tier unto its own. It rose like the mighty carapace of a metallic spider, its limbs stretching far in all directions. A jagged tower rose above a collection of turrets and buttresses, directing a challenge to the sky. An aura of ethereality wrapped around the place like a permanent mist, shrouding the school in wonder.

Leaning against the wall, Jaune took a few moments to appreciate the sight.

Before a hip checked his, shattering the image and breaking his posture. "Sorry," a voice mumbled. Scowling, he turned to face his aggressor.

Long, pale legs lead to a crimson skirt and black blazer of a girl whose sunglasses covered half of her face. "Archer," read words above her head, befitting the bow and quiver strapped to her back.

She winked at him before being swept back into the crowd. A returning student, then?

A high-pitched scream of terror rose over the chatter of the crowd, more caterwauling than anything. Jaune turned in annoyance. Bumping through the crowd at breakneck speeds was a girl in red-and-black garb. She teetered dangerously to both sides, the jostling motions of the crowd not helping her balance. A moment later, her tiny frame collided with the armor-plated back of a large Brawler. Predictably, she slumped to the floor.

What was it about Vale that stripped people of fine motor control? Jaune rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine!" the girl shouted to nobody in particular. Their eyes met.

Jaune had planned on allowing the girl to pick herself off the ground, but he could hardly play off her beseeching eyes now. Especially if she were to become a fellow student.

"Need a hand?" he asked, reaching out and hauling the girl to her feet. Upon closer inspection, he could see short black, red-tipped hair framing a pretty face. "Reaper" read her class. Reaper? Was this some sort of Farmer sub-class? Had he been mistaken in his evaluation?

"Th-Thanks!" she breathed, dusting off the sediment on her clothing. "I didn't expect it to be so crowded here, and my sis just up and abandoned me."

"No worries," he replied. Was she an NPC? What was she doing in Vale, on Beacon's initiation day, no less?

"Are you also heading to downtown?" she asked.

"Yep," he replied.

The two lapsed into a strange silence walking alongside each other before Jaune realized she'd intended to make conversation. He hadn't talked much to anybody over the last several years, his interactions limited to his mentor; the current King's bodyguard, whose communication with him consisted of little more than barking orders; and Daphne, slated to be his future wife. That brought with it a slew of loneliness. Part of the reason he'd escaped was to re-enter society and to make friends.

He had over 200 Charisma. He could do this. He should be able to do this.

Blank. Nothing.

The stat meant nothing without words, and he didn't know what to say.

Ruby broke the awkward spell. "Hey, do I know you from somewhere?"

He froze.

Could the King's word travel so fast? His appearance should've been a secret. Even his name should have been confidential information, only to be revealed when his status as Prince Regent was cemented. How could a civilian know him? Had the King already plastered wanted posters around town? Was his face hanging below a seven-figure bounty on some lamppost?

"Maybe… uh… in a magazine? Or—"

He breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. "No, I don't think so," he answered.

And lo, the silence returned.

"So…" the pixie next to him continued, undeterred. "Where are you headed?"

"Beacon," he said. "I plan to try to become a Hero."

"Really? Me too! It's like _the _place to become a Hero in Vale. And you only get once chance to do it, too. My dad and uncle went there. My sister's trying to get in, too!"

"I'll be the first in my family," he offered. "I—"

His brain kicked in and provided a suitable excuse. "I come from a family of… nobles."

Not false, technically.

"Huh— what's that like?"

"Suffocating," he bit. "Everyone had their own agendas. It was always about political or personal gain. Nobles like to hide behind masks and poison their words with falsehoods. I never want to go back, frankly."

Silence, the trilogy.

"Oh!" the girl piped up. "I'm Ruby Rose, by the way," she said, her eyes wide and a little horrified. Jaune snickered a bit at the sight. She clearly thought she'd committed some social faux paus.

"I know it says it up there and all, but dad always gets on my case if I'm not polite."

"Jaune Ar—" he stopped himself. Maybe an alias would be more appropriate. "Aries," he finished. "Nice to meet you, Ruby."

"You too! And thanks for helping me up," she said, grinning. "I guess that's what a knight does, though, right?"

"Yeah…" his voice trailed off. What _did_ a knight do, exactly? He'd met a few, but they'd all struck him as stuck-up asses. Was he supposed to act chivalrous, but also callous? Heroic, but impersonable?

"Hey, Jaune?" Ruby called. "I have to go find my sister, but we can talk later, right?"

"Sure."

She wanted to talk to him? Had… had he just made a friend? Something in his chest lurched up at the thought.

"See you around, Ruby. It's been nice talking to you."

"Yup!"

Her small figure faded into the throngs of prospective students. So caught up was he in conversation— or lack thereof— that he didn't notice they'd arrived before Beacon's gates.

His conversational skills needed some work, but at least he'd secured a friend, right?

=II=

Students were promptly shepherded into some large auditorium and instructed to sit in one of several rows of chairs provided. There must have been three or four hundred clamoring teenagers in here, all seeking a spot in Beacon. How many would make it through? Half that number? A third? A quarter?

He ended up choosing a secluded seat in a corner, one in which he'd be unlikely to draw any attention. A few seconds later, someone plopped down two seats to his left— the closest space to the shadowy corner that didn't touch his personal space. He glanced sideways.

A black-haired faunus girl with yellow eyes sat cross-legged, reading a book. The moniker "Assassin" hung above her head.

He tensed. Assassin? For four years he'd been trained to combat them, taught the most efficient methods of deterring and breaking them. If assassination attempts on the Queen were ever to occur, they'd be plied by the masters of the trade. Unlike most classes, assassins remained terrible threats in any given moment, what with their host of stealthy ranged and close combat options.

Her eyes flickered over his, before a minute trace of— was it disappointment? — entered her gaze. An instant later, she returned to her book.

Strange.

The sound of throat clearing shook him from his thoughts. Glancing up, he watched a silver-haired man take the stage. "You are the future of Vale," he said, his voice echoing through the room. "You also represent the future of Remnant itself. Some among you may believe you are the only such future, that there are not others who can rise to such an occasion. You'd be wrong. You are here today not because you are the future, but because you have the potential to protect the future— to guard those who need protection most. Nothing will be handed to you, nothing gifted. Much will be expected. Should you stand before me once more tonight, I shall have different words for you. But for now, I ask you to direct your attention towards Miss Goodwitch, who will inform you about what may be the most important moment of your lives."

Silence reigned through the building as a palpable tension rose in response to his words. Jaune had gotten used to awkward silence. He'd had plenty of exposure this morning.

"In one hour, we will depart for your First Quest," the blonde woman who had taken center stage was tall and elegant, dressed in a thick black shawl that fell to her feet. She waved one hand, and a projection of a map shimmered onto the wall behind her. "This is a ruined and abandoned village fourteen miles out from Vale, the name of which is unimportant. It fell over three years ago to a freak Elder-Grimm spawn." Elder-Grimm? Surely she couldn't expect students with an average level of 16 to face them down. "This Grimm was killed soon after by responding Heroes, but not before it managed to spawn Grimm throughout the village. Though the residents were evacuated, the King declared the village unfit for habitation. Until now."

She turned, wand in hand.

"Your First Quest will be to aid in the reclamation of this village for the betterment of Vale. Though abandoned, structures and fortifications are still in place which will make the rebuilding effort far simpler. The ruined buildings will remove the need for transporting large quantities of raw material across contested land. The task of every prospective student here is to enter the village and kill every Grimm in the area. The resulting combat will doubtless spawn more; thus, you will be required to hold the village as well. The Quest will not come to an end until every Grimm in the vicinity has been slain. If you are hurt or do not believe you can hold, you have the choice of falling back to the point from which you entered the village. This will count as failure, however. I suggest you use your single hour well. Until that time, you all have free reign in this hall and the grounds outside. Good luck."

As she stepped offstage, whispers broke out in the crowd. By the time she made it to a side door, they'd crescendoed into a frenzied buzzing. When the door snapped shut behind her, almost every student burst into panicked conversation. Live combat against Grimm sounded a horrifying prospect to most who'd never endured it, Jaune imagined. For a good portion of students, this might be the first exposure to the creatures they'd sworn to defeat. He doubted allowing children in over their own heads to be gored by an annoyed Deathstalker made for good P.R., though. He wouldn't be surprised to find sentries hidden in the trees, ready to protect any students in need.

The crowd shifted and spilled from the room, eager to head for the sunshine outside. Jaune followed the current, ducking elbows, knees, and inadvertent shoves as he surged for the doors. Miss Goodwitch had made it seem a team-based activity. He scanned the crowd, pondering. Should he aim for a stronger team and play the role of meat shield, or join a weaker team with more responsibilities? Limiting the exposure of his skill seemed the safer choice.

Teams of students had already begun grouping together on the lawn outside, gravitating to one another in droves. Should he find Ruby? Though based on her supreme lack of any coordination displayed earlier, he somehow doubted she'd make a strong teammate. Perhaps he should slot himself into a decently competent team already formed.

His eyes roved the crowd. Two Warriors, a Duellist, and a Geomancer… he doubted they needed another melee unit. There— two male mages, along with a blonde Brawler and a brunette Archer. "Hello!" he called, making his way over. "I noticed your team doesn't have a tank. May I—"

"Screw off," a mage spat, looking annoyed Jaune had interrupted his conversation with the blonde girl. His gaze only sank further as his conversational partner gave Jaune an appreciative once-over, settling on his well-muscled chest and his chiseled face. "We don't need any stinking Knights," the man sneered.

"Hey!" the girl spluttered, turning. "Be nice!"

Jaune stared at the offender in mute disbelief. Tinges of red filtered into his vision.

A random mage, reject him? Some Tier-2 backwater upstart brat had the audacity! If he were still a Paragon receiving such backtalk from an apprentice Mage in Vale Castle, he'd surely have slapped the fool across the cheek— and again on the other for good measure.

As it were, he reminded himself, he was a Knight— or so he pretended to be. So he turned and stalked away, face burning.

He didn't need teammates. He didn't need anyone. Clearing a stupid first-year entrance exam should be easy, even if he handicapped his abilities to appear like a high-level Knight. Some rational part of him told him he was being illogical. He stuffed a metaphorical pillow over that part of him and waited till its limbs stopped flailing.

A voice dimly registered through his rage. "Helloooo? Remnant to Knight?"

A beautiful girl with snow-white hair watched him, a smidge of annoyance on her face. "I was thinking we could work together."

"Yeah, sure—" he replied absently, before his gaze trailed to the person behind her and his voice stopped short.

He'd recognize that flame-colored hair anywhere. It had been six years, but those emerald eyes and crimson hair remained firmly stuck in his memory.

Pyrrha fucking Nikos.

The first time he'd caught the international spotlight— and, by extension, appeared on the radar of the King of Vale as a possible heir— he'd placed second at the Junior International Remnant Championships. It was also the first and only time he'd ever lost. Before that tournament, training had been flippant. A Paragon's stats allowed for easy trouncing of all opponents, even some fellow Prestige classes. He'd waltzed his way to the Finals—

— and promptly ran smack into the brick wall that was Pyrrha Nikos.

She'd been so fluid and powerful even under the influence of The One Above All that he'd thought his Passive had failed him. They'd crossed blows, but her skill had vastly outstripped his own. Her level as well, probably. He recalled their auras dipping below twenty, and then nothing.

Later, adults with all-too-caring voices informed him that she'd knocked him out with a shield thrust as he was approaching for an overhead slash. That day, he'd cried for hours. That day, he'd redoubled his efforts and trained with a ferocity and seriousness he'd never felt before. That day, he'd resolved to crush the red-haired devil. That child's ambition had faded in time, shuffled under the rug of bodyguard training. But the smarting wound remained.

Pyrrha glanced at him, brow furrowed, as though attempting to place his face. As though he were just another loser broken under her blade among a sea of unworthy challengers. He gritted his teeth. Some of his animosity must have slipped into his gaze, because she appeared taken aback, and then sad.

" — and I think that's the best battle plan," the snowy-haired girl rambled on, oblivious. "To review: You and Pyrrha can tank Grimm, while I provide supplementary attack damage from behind. We just need a good striker, preferably someone who can deal damage at mid-to-close range—"

"No."

The white-haired girl blinked. "What did you just say?"

"I change my mind. I'll go it alone," he muttered, stepping away.

"Hey! But you just— don't you walk away from me!" she shouted to his departing back.

He told himself he left because he couldn't risk being recognized by Pyrrha. The wrenching anger carving through his gut said otherwise. This was objectively childish. He was here to make friends, not enemies.

"Jaune!" an all-too-familiar voice beckoned to him. "It _is_ Jaune, right?"

Standing there, waving with completely unwarranted ebullience, was Ruby, a blonde-haired Brawler at her side. Her sister? They didn't look anything alike, especially in their… figures.

Beside them stood a nonplussed dark-haired cat faunus, the assassin he'd spotted earlier. Assassin. Had Ruby… had she roped in an _assassin_? He wasn't sure at what point the world stopped making sense.

"Want to join? I'm sure Yang and Blake wouldn't mind having a Knight teammate!" she called. Yang— at least, he assumed that was the blonde— shrugged, while the assassin pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Jaune could take a hint.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll be fine solo," he said. A brief flash of disappointment graced Ruby's features. "Oh... okay."

A voice rang above the din. "Will all prospective students please step forward? We are beginning portal transport to the outskirts of the ruined village."

True to her word, a thick miasma blossomed into existence, hovering in the air like the surface of a shimmering, swirling cauldron. A snapping rang out as it conformed to a circle in the air. "If you desire to flee," Miss Goodwitch continued, "you may return to the portal at any time. You _will_ be on your own. Pay attention to your reserves, be careful, and, above all, fight as the Heroes you claim to be!"

A cheer broke out in small pockets of the crowd but was quickly stifled by the nervous energy permeating the atmosphere. A few braver souls stepped forward and passed through the portal first, liquefying into the thick purple hue. Jaune was one of them.

This was it. Now, he'll prove himself a true Hero, teammates be damned.

**A/N**

**Apologies for the similarity between the second chapter of Forged Destiny and this one, but it's a necessary transition. The action in the following chapter will be wholly different. Thanks to those sticking with the story. **

**Upon revisiting some older RWBY episodes in preparation for writing this, I've noticed a comedic undertone distinctly lacking in most RWBY fanfiction of this kind. Maybe I'll introduce some of that spirit after Jaune's personalities undergoes some softening. **


	3. Book 1, Chapter 2

**A/N As a fanfiction author once said, you cannot give Harry Potter a lightsaber without giving Voldemort a Death Star.**

**The level of difficulty in this fanfiction will be ramped up to accommodate the level of power of the MC. You'll see some of that in this chapter.**

**To NamikazeHatake: Thank you for pointing out the stats stuff! I've changed that accordingly. As for length, I try to hit 4k words or more, but often miss the mark. Hopefully this will improve as time goes on.**

**Ty to blackdragon777 as well for identifying that error, and to all reviewers for being so kind. To address a few things—**

**First, to devilmaycry17: I'll definitely try to expand on the worldbuilding. Dungeons will also be more challenging, and will have more depth. Until the end of book two, I don't want to diverge too much because I want a certain plot event to occur in similar fashion. After that, though? We'll see.**

**And to Arrogant Comprehender: I'm glad you like the character! He's not a completely rotten apple, but there will be certain aspects of his personality too ingrained with arrogance and ignorance to ignore. We'll see more of this later.**

**Also: some of Ren's and Nora's dialogue was taken from the corresponding chapter in Forged Destiny.**

**Now, without further ado—**

Book 1, Chapter 2.

The portal deposited him in a forested area. A faint scent of brimstone lingered in the air, a relic of the destruction that had once occurred at this place. All around him, prospective Heroes scattered about, looking for Grimm to combat. As the seconds passed, more and more pushed through, seeking their own paths through the undergrowth and the trees.

He supposed he should do the same.

The route forward lead to a large gap in the treeline through which he could see little wooden houses next to dilapidated buildings— the remnants of a clock tower or a church, perhaps. Moss had long since laid claim to the area, spreading through the buildings and even nearby trees. The town would be infested with Grimm, but also fellow prospective students. Jaune had decided— or, rather, been pushed— into going solo. He'd stick to the plan.

Instead of following the route, he took an unfamiliar path at a ninety degree angle from the main branch. Some prospective students had the same idea, skirting the outskirts of the town for Grimm. Most seemed weaker, less sure of themselves, unable to confront the idea of the inevitable combat in the town and content to scour the perimeter. Jaune scoffed, advancing.

Soon, the trees gave way and admitted him to a grassy clearing. There! Lying in the shade of a large tree were three of his quarry: Canis by the look of them, doglike Grimm with bony skulls and midnight-black fur who had about the same ferocity as an actual canine. Jaune unsheathed his knife, more a symbolic action than anything. He'd spotted sentries in the shadows of tree branches. A first-year Knight having the confidence— or arrogance— to face multiple Grimm unarmed might draw suspicion.

They were spread about a small, wooden cabin, the owner of which had probably long since died. It'd explain the negativity. As Jaune approached, they perked up, red eyes trained on him through plates of white skull tissue. He smiled. They leapt.

Canis anatomy remained a mystery to Jaune. As the first pounced through the air, eyes blazing, its bone-white teeth promising death, he studied the indentations atop its skull, the crescent-shaped valley above its eyes. A structural defect. It sloped down to a jaw too narrow to effectively deal damage, followed by a body stuck staunchly in mediocrity: too large to retain agility, but too small to pack a punch. A few minor modifications would fix it tremendously, perhaps grant power that, if applied correctly and without resistance, might break his skin. Schematics for improvement to the species flitted through his mind idly.

A quarter of a second later, when the thing's claws crossed within two feet of his head, Jaune remembered he was supposed to be in combat.

Sidestep. Slash. Crack.

A bisected head rolled to the floor, its skull broken above the eyes. The Canis' body slumped after its head.

Idiocy. Why jump so high in the air? It only provided a longer time frame for the opponent to roll out of the way.

There was a reason, he supposed, that they were among the weakest of Grimm.

Perhaps if they were human or had any strategic sense, the other two Grimm would be more hesitant to approach him. As it were, they pounced at him in almost precisely the same manner.

Slash. Slash. Slump. Slump.

Jaune couldn't imagine anybody remotely competent struggling with them. You'd have to have the dexterity of a Blacksmith or something.

Shrugging, he sheathed his knife and forged on. As he began to circle the town, crops of students battling Canis or similarly weak Grimm surfaced. Some, mobbed by numbers and without adequate help, succumbed, but the majority appeared to be holding their own. The majority that he could see, in any case. Likely, a good contingent hadn't had the guts to even enter the portal, and another chunk of those who did had already been escorted out.

He didn't see the need to intervene. Fighting Canis repeatedly was about as interesting as chewing on his dagger. They provided near zero experience. Inadvertently, he found himself circling in wider and wider arcs, drawing farther and farther from the ruined settlement.

As he ran, footfalls sounded softly behind him. A sentry sent to tail him, perhaps? To make sure he didn't get lost? He smirked, dashing behind a tree.

An instant later, he pushed off of its trunk with tremendous force, rocketing at an angle for a tree branch. A one-armed swing sent him careening in yet another direction, and he borrowed its momentum to streak farther in. Within seconds, the footfalls faded from hearing. He'd lost his supposed guardian.

His last swing had twisted him at high speeds toward the village. Unbeknownst to his pursuer, however, he'd reversed directions as quickly, making use of his dexterity to grab hold of a branch and swing the other way. The poor Hero-in-training was probably scouring the paths back to town or assumed he'd headed back. Perfect. Time alone. Limiting himself was tiresome.

His form blurred as he shifted gears, dashing forward with speed no Knight should possess. A little exploration to kill time should do no harm. Perhaps there'd be stronger Grimm; sometimes, the most terrible monsters spawned a few miles away from the epicenters of tragedy.

A gurgling sound pricked his attention. He skidded, changed direction, and headed for the sound. A few hundred steps later, he found himself staring at a pond. A black miasma churned in the middle, sweeping tidal currents and sending waves crashing to shore. A Grimm spawn. Jaune readied himself in anticipation, teeth bared in an exhilarated smile.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the massive head which reared out of the lake followed by a body so gargantuan it waded through the pond as though it were a bathtub. Chitinous bones jutted from its inky limbs, and a pair of telltale red eyes peered through the murky air. The older brother of Canis, and much stronger: Beowolf. One of the weakest of the Elder-Grimm, but an Elder-Grimm nonetheless.

In theory, this should've been impossible. In theory, Jaune shouldn't have been here to confront it in the first place. Theory and practice were the same in theory but not in practice, clearly.

The last time he'd fought a Beowolf, he'd been two years younger and about ten levels lower. He'd returned with nothing but a minor claw wound across his chest. If the death throes of a Beowolf could scarcely scratch him two years prior, a similar specimen today stood no chance. Jaune drew his blade as the Beowolf charged at him with speed defying its massive frame. While striking it down with a rapid Void Rend was eminently possible, Jaune was hesitant to waste an opportunity for a little fun. He smiled. No; he'd rather face a challenge and prolong the battle.

A great weakness of massive, four-limbed creatures was their lack of mobility. Despite the Beowolf's impressive speed, it couldn't swerve at the same rate. Jaune dashed for a front limb, ducked a swipe, and slashed at the joints of the leg, Perfect Strike latching onto its weakest segments. The Beowolf howled in pain and shifted its weight to its other leg, allowing Jaune to Perfect Strike at the ligaments of its exposed hind leg. Another cry rattled the trees of the forest. The Beowolf shrank into itself, feverishly turning, trying to squash the pesky human— or force him out of range.

Neither worked. Jaune struck again at the damaged hind limb as the Beowolf turned, a spinning claw in motion. The limb jerked as the Beowolf reared its head in agony, its leg severed from its body.

Every reaction exposed a weakness. In this instance, Jaune leapt up the back of the beast and crossed the distance between tail and head in two blinding steps. As he ran, the Beowolf's body flared red in his mind, and The One Above All activated. The beast, surprised, stopped mid-flail and crashed to the floor, an invisible force crushing it to the ground. Earthly Manacles, manifestations of aura as chains, bound the Grimm's front legs to the ground, preventing it from rearing and bucking him off. A dagger hilt jutted out from the back of the Grimm's head. It collapsed, sinking back into the pond before bursting into nothing. A pouch of lien lay behind as loot.

The last time Jaune had attempted the Elder-Grimm species solo, he'd underestimated the motility of the spikes jutting out from its limbs. As he ducked under, ready to tear a limb at its joint, a bone spur somehow spiked from the Grimm's limb, tearing a wicked gash across Jaune's body. He didn't allow any such openings this time.

Despite himself, a toothy grin spread across his face. He didn't expect such excitement from an initiation assessment. Settling down, he leaned back against a tree, his hands loosening the pouch of lien. Six hundred. Not bad.

The area returned to an eerie quiet. Jaune leaned against the trunk, feeling bark scrape against his skin, and closed his eyes. Presumably, administration would signal the end of the assessment. For whatever reason, they hadn't deemed it necessary as of yet. One Elder-Grimm was enough of an adventure. He decided to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

What was taking them so long? Were his fellow classmates that incompetent?

Grumbling, he forced himself upright and reached for an odd stone beside him. On a whim, he skipped it across the pond. It plunked three times before sinking.

He supposed he had nothing better to do.

Another stone, slightly larger, slightly rounder. Plunk, plunk, plunk. Drop.

Jaune's eyes narrowed.

There was no lack of stones on the ground. He picked up another.

Five plunks this time. Ha! It seemed like more spin promised more bounces. The angle of the throw appeared to matter too, as did the choice of rock.

Scrounging a triangular stone from the ground, he slashed it at a forty-five degree angle, his wrist applying moderate spin.

Sixteen oh-so-satisfying plunks burst through the afternoon air in a cacophony of triumph. "Haha!" Jaune cried, a fist pumped in the air—

— as a familiar redhead picked a shady spot under a tree about ten feet from him and sat down by the pondside. Pyrrha Nikos? How— and why — did she come here?

He froze. Then, slowly, lowered his arm, his fast tinging on red.

To his vast relief, she didn't comment on it nor even acknowledge his existence. She seemed content to lie back and enjoy the views of the pond. The only indication she'd seen him do his little victory pose at all was a slight quirk of her lips.

Jaune was sure his face had caught on fire.

Sighing, he settled back down. Unlike with Ruby, the silence he and Pyrrha shared wasn't awkward. Neither wanted to acknowledge the existence of the other, and so pretended the other did not exist. Jaune lounged back, enjoying the pondside views. As did Pyrrha.

He waited.

And waited.

Plunk-plunk-plunk-

Eyes widening, he caught a trail of splashes dash across the water's surface. Five bounces. He smirked. Amateur.

Leaning back, he watched the girl wind up for another attempt.

Twelve. Not bad. Maybe with—

Seventeen oh-so-perfect bounces resounded across the pond.

Seventeen exactly. Pyrrha sat back, that same smug smirk gracing her beautiful features. She didn't move to reach for another rock, as though content to have bested him by one. For a girl who seemed as reserved as she, she had a scathing competitive streak.

As did he.

Oh, it was _on_.

He wound back. Twenty-two. She picked up another. Twenty-six. Gritting his teeth, he upped his power, flicking his wrist with more dexterity. Twenty-nine.

A few seconds later, his silent opponent responded with a soul-crushing Thirty-three. She settled back, smiling outright now, her head leaning back and her eyes closing in triumph.

He almost snarled.

Strength: 80%

Dexterity: 80%

Active Skill: Perfect Strike.

The stone slammed across the waves like a cannonshot, skidding countless times before clearing the pond entirely, carving a circular indent into the tree across. A beat.

Then, the trunk fractured and collapsed.

For a brief, immensely satisfying second, he took in the Invincible Girl's wide-eyed shock.

And then she stood, lips set in a determined grimace, arm winding back—

No way—

A crash like a thunderbolt sent the rock careening across the watery surface. The stone followed the same trajectory as Jaune's before cracking on the riverbank on the other side, blanketing its surrounding with a puff of dark smoke.

Then, they both settled down as if nothing had happened.

And waited.

Jaune would forever disavow what occurred next. He didn't giggle. Not even a little bit. She started to giggle, so of course he did too, and the dam crumbled from there. Soon, they were both laughing raucously, clutching their bellies, tears streaming from their eyes.

On instinct, Jaune stood and walked over, still giggling. "We may have gotten off on the wrong foot… you reminded me of someone I once knew. I'm Jaune Aries," he said, holding out a hand.

Pyrrha shook it firmly, smiling. "Pyrrha Nikos. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

Pyrrha gazed across the pond, a grin still plastered on her face. "That was quite an impressive throw for a Knight."

Her eyes widened. "Oh— I didn't mean any offense."

"None taken," Jaune laughed. "I've had a lot of practice."

She didn't ask how practice lead to enough force and wrist control to shatter the trunk of a tree across the pond with a riverstone. Instead, she laughed along. "Quite a lot, I imagine."

"Quite."

They snickered, the residue of their full-throated laughs making its way out of their systems. Jaune had no clue how they'd gotten to this point. He supposed the best course of action was tactful obliviousness. Deny any connection. Deny, deny, deny.

"So, where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked. This is how conversations continued, yes? Leading questions?

Pyrrha grimaced a bit at the query. "I have always been able to pick up such things rather quickly. I have a bit of a history in activities involving… hand-eye coordination."

She could not have been any more vague. "Oh? How so?"

Crap. Remain oblivious, but not that oblivious. Who would believe he didn't know who Pyrrha Nikos was?

Apparently, she didn't buy it either. "Do you know who I am?" she asked, her eye twitching a bit with incredulity.

In for one lien, in for a thousand. Deny, deny, deny.

"Should I?" he fired back, adopting his best oblivious expression.

To his surprise, her face lit up. "No! No. Of course not. I've merely done some sparring in the past. I suppose you could say my class is similar to yours, save for a few minor differences."

"Some sparring in the past" and "a few minor differences" my ass. Jaune nodded despite the thought.

Something gurgled. "Is that your stomach?" Pyrrha asked, giggling. He frowned.

"No…"

His eyes turned to the pond once more. Little currents began to spread from the center, sending rising waves to the sides of the pond.

"Oh, fuck."

A golden head of some massive snake slid out of the water, angling toward them.

And continued to rise.

Jaune frowned, inspecting the head. It almost looked like—

He turned as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his hand grabbing Pyrrha's.

"Run!" he breathed, bolting back down the path. She followed along, startled. "What?"

"That's not a head. That's a stinger!"

Deathstalker: A foe he'd had to face only once before, and that had been at full strength. Pretending to be a Knight might cost him a step of speed. One prick of that deadly tail entailed a fatal poison. He wasn't sure how effective or timely Beacon's healers were, but he didn't intend to test them.

As they ran, he endeavored to keep pace with Pyrrha, though a few steps behind. Balancing possible death and his Knight facade might not be the brightest idea, but the Deathstalker was far enough behind that he thought he could chance it. The beast flared red in his mind as The One Above All activated. Aura pressure slowed its limbs considerably but it still advanced at a frightening pace, forging ahead as though dragging through mud.

The rustling sound of trees parting beneath massive, crawling limbs banished the thought. How could these massive Grimm move so quickly? The path opened to a plain ahead, where he could barely make out two figures against the sunlight.

"Deathstalker!" he cried as he and Pyrrha burst through the treeline, a massive scorpion Grimm hot on their heels.

A orange-haired Barbarian girl watched them with interest which morphed to horror which morphed to glee, while a Monk by her side calmly unsheathed two daggers.

"Nora?" he called. The girl nodded. "Ready!"

Allies, then? He locked eyes with Pyrrha. She nodded. They both turned and skidded beside their fellow combatants, weapons at the ready.

"Help?" Jaune called.

The Barbarian nodded. So did the monk.

"Alright. Standard battle formation!"

This entailed the designated tanker, Jaune, deflecting the Grimm's blows, while ranged and mid-ranged offensive classes laid waste from behind.

Pyrrha joined him in halting the advance of the creature, a sword in hand and a shield on her arm.

Jaune took one claw. She took the other. The momentum of a sprinting multi-ton killing machine shoved their heels into the ground, but they didn't give. Their combined constitutions absorbed the force as it passed to the floor, halting the Deathstalker.

A flash burst to one side of the Grimm, slashing at the segments of the claw. The Monk made large, messy artwork of the limb, while the Barbarian bashed a crack into its bony armor on the other side.

Jaune's eyes were drawn to a blurring golden flash. Without thinking, he dashed to the Monk's side, his blade colliding with the Deathstalker's stinger and deflecting the blow. It dug a deep furrow into the ground, kicking dirt and gravel into the air. The Monk's eyes widened and narrowed in an instant.

"Careful. Its stinger is much faster than it looks," Jaune said.

"Noted."

When they re-engaged, the Monk took pains to work in sweeping circles around the radius of the tail, only striking areas a healthy distance away. The Deathstalker's efforts to turn and defend itself, meanwhile, were in vain, Pyrrha and Jaune meeting it in every attempt and driving it back with knife slashes or sword thrusts.

Somehow, an utterly uncoordinated team of strangers was wearing down an Elder-Grimm, and it knew it. Its movements turned jagged and spiky, aggravated by its inability to defend itself. A few more minutes of punishment and it would collapse. Either its stinger would give or its limbs would.

A violent thrust at an already cracked section of the beasts' armor sent the beast reeling, overcompensating on one side to defend the weakness. Jaune saw his opportunity. A perfect in-step, closing the distance, followed by thrusting the dagger through the eye with Perfect Strike. The stinger was reeled all the way back, still turning in the opposite motion. No doubt it would rear back at a blistering pace— but not fast enough.

As he dashed in, he raised a hand, knife turning to the perfect angle. Dimly, he saw the stinger launching forward. Immaterial. The eye thrust required some dexterity and the side-step high agility, but his stats were more than enough—

His stats. Not a Knight's.

The thought flickered through his mind, but he abandoned it. His body was already in motion. Surging, he moved in for a strike.

Before a black blur rammed into him from the side, sending him flying through the air and sprawling to the floor. Whatever had tackled him had wrapped two appendages around his torso, keeping them locked as they ricocheted off the ground. The stinger struck nothing.

What the hell was that? Jaune looked up to see a cat faunus assassin watching him with unreadable yellow eyes, her legs straddling his torso.

Assassin.

His body moved before his mind processed it. A push to her solar plexus sent her stumbling off of him. He scrambled to his feet, knife in hand. There didn't appear to be a puncture wound. No poison. Had she attempted to finish him off in a moment of distraction, only to fail?

"What do you think you're doing?!" he hissed, baring teeth, knife in front of him in a protective stance.

"Saving your life, idiot," the assassin responded coolly. He blinked.

"I didn't need saving!"

"How did you plan on avoiding the stinger?"

"Side-stepping, you dolt!"

"With your agility?" she rolled her eyes before squaring her body to the Deathstalker. "Such a typical Knight."

Then she leapt into motion, her dagger flashing in the sunlight. Swearing, Jaune followed.

With half of its body unshielded, the Deathstalker turned its vicious stinger to the monk, who leapt and dodged with impressive fluidity. Its next thrust was intercepted by Jaune's dagger. The Deathstalker turned to him once more, its eyes a baleful red.

A sound like a knife puncturing watermelon cut through the clearing. The scorpion Grimm leaned to one side, its claws reaching for purchase on the ground. The Barbarian had scored a debilitating blow to one of its joints, leaving it unbalanced and crippled. A second later, a black blade descended from above.

The Assassin finished the job, driving a knife through the beast's eye— the very move he'd planned to execute seconds earlier.

She sent him one last glare, which he returned in equal measure. Then, her body dissipated in black smoke.

"Who was that?" Pyrrha called, jogging up.

"Don't know. I suppose they wanted the EXP," Jaune replied, anger still burning a hole in his chest. As a force of habit, he checked his stats. Killing the creature had pushed him over the limit, increasing his level. A cynical part of him whispered that it would have been more had the Assassin not intervened.

"I don't believe we've had a chance to introduce ourselves," the monk said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm Ren."

"And I'm Nora!" his companion cheered. "That was awesome!"

"Pyrrha. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Pyrrha introduced.

"Jaune. Thanks for your help," Jaune said.

"Oh, it was nothing. Right, Renny?" Nora cooed. Renny— or, Ren— flashed a thumb up. "Happy to help."

"You two were blocking everything out there! I was doing my usual thing, of course, and Renny there absolutely wrecked it from the side! Hey, we work really well together, don't ya think? We should be friends!" Nora cried.

"Friends," Jaune echoed. "Huh. Sure. Let's."

"I think I'd like that," Pyrrha agreed, smiling. Her face betrayed a relaxed relief, as though a weight were lifted from her soul.

Nora hesitated for an instant. Then, a smile split her face. "Friends!" She jumped at he and Pyrrha, somehow managing to envelop both of them in a crushing hug before sending all three of them crashing to the ground. "Yes! Renny, I made two new friends!"

"I'm afraid you've sealed your fate now," Ren chuckled. "You don't get to take that kind of statement back with Nora."

"I made a friend. Three new friends," Pyrrha whispered in a voice so soft nobody but Jaune heard her. She sounded amazed at the notion. He felt the same way.

A fraction of the crowd that had entered the portal remained. There might have been other Elder-Grimm spawning to cull the pack, Jaune reflected. He scarcely believed a group of four hundred had been thinned to a third that number by Canis.

The victors stood in solemn silence, watching tear-stained recruit after bawling recruit ushered away. Some sported bruises, others crushed limbs. Grimm were vicious, and not every prospective Hero was saved from attacks in time.

Miss Goodwitch walked over, ignoring the grim procession. "Congratulations on finishing the first quest. All of you have been accepted into the Beacon Academy for Heroes."

Cries of relief and joy rippled through the crowd, tainted somewhat by the horrifying ordeal they'd all witnessed and experienced mere minutes before.

Jaune himself breathed a final, relieved sigh. He was officially a student, and thus was afforded the protection of Vale's premier Hero Academy. He doubted Headmaster Ozpin would take kindly to a King's snagging of a student, however justified. Hell, the King would be foolish to leak the incident to the press. It only broadcasted his weakness. A more politically savvy move would be to groom a replacement from the next generation; another Prestige class, if not a high-ranking Tier 1 Hero.

"Your trials, however," Goodwitch continued, "are not over. Acceptance is only the beginning. Lessons begin tomorrow. Only you can maximize the potential of your four years here. For now, the Headmaster and I bid you welcome, and invite you all to rest and relax. You've certainly earned it."

A few spent students collapsed on the spot.

"This building houses the male dormitories—"

She gestured to a long, marble building with stained glass windows to her left.

"While this houses the female."

With the same hand, she pointed to her right, where a similar building stood. At the mention of dorms, Ren caught his eye. The two nodded in agreement.

"Bed positioning is first come, first serve. Leave a note with your name, and an NPC will be sure to engrave your name onto the bed of your choosing. The building behind me contains the communal quarters, where the cafeteria, recreational rooms, study rooms, and lounges are housed."

"A faculty member shall expound more fully on the rules and regulations tomorrow. For now: do not enter a dorm room of the opposite gender, and remain stationed at your chosen dorms until a faculty member comes by to assign lesson plans. I bid you all goodnight. And again— congratulations."

The crowd dispersed at a normal pace, caught between lethargy and the desire to secure premium dorms first. "Well," he hedged, glancing at Pyrrha. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow? At breakfast? My understanding is that is the social convention…"

She laughed. "That's my understanding as well. I shall save you a seat if I arrive first."

With a parting smile, she turned and made for the female dorms.

"Jaune!" a voice called. He turned as a little figure crashed into him, wrapping around his fatigues and burying her head in his chest. "Ruby!" he greeted.

"I made it, I passed!" she whooped, silver eyes sparkling. "Where were you?! I didn't see you anywhere!"

"I'm glad to hear you've made it," he smiled, sidestepping the second half of her question. She was so effervescent she didn't appear to mind. "Pfft— like, totally! My sis and I rocked it! Where is she?"

Ruby turned. When she turned around, her pout told Jaune she didn't find who she was looking for. "I'll introduce you too later. Where was that redheaded girl with you earlier?"

"Oh, Pyrrha? I'll introduce you two at breakfast."

"You want to eat together?" Ruby said, brow furrowed.

A hand caught her on her shoulder. Ruby yelped. "Yaaang! Don't do that!"

The blonde girl who'd sneaked up on her was her sister, then? His initial assumption had been correct, despite the obvious differences in… stature. She was the kind of beautiful that turned heads, the kind he'd see wandering Vale castle on the arms of some powerful politician. The kind who'd sometimes taken to propositioning him after they'd seen his looks and learned of his position.

"Well, well," the girl said, a corner of her lips quirked up. "This is the Jaauuuunne you've been telling me about all afternoon? Your boyfriend?"

"Hey! I haven't been telling you all— and he's not my boyfriend!" Ruby snapped, her face reddening.

"He's not?" Yang licked her lips and eyed him with exaggerated scrutiny. "If you don't want him, I'll take him. Why don't we go… eat… together, cutie?"

"YAAAAANG!" Ruby fumed. The blonde burst into laughter. "I'm just teasing, Rubes! You're adorable when you're embarrassed."

She pinched the smaller girl's cheek affectionately. Ruby, for her part, grumbled. Jaune agreed. It was adorable.

"Sure," Jaune broke in.

"Wait, what?" Yang's eyes widened. "Oh— I wasn't seriously—"

"He was talking to me, Yang," Ruby said, rolling her eyes. "I asked if he wanted us to eat together?"

"Oh. That's what I meant as well. Yep."

Ruby shot her an unimpressed glance before turning to Jaune. "We'd be glad to," she grinned. He perked up. Had he managed to quadruple his number of friends in a day?

The green flash of a blazer caught has eye as a certain Monk strolled by.

"And you, Ren?" He called. "Would you and Nora like to eat with us tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Sure." Quintuple!

"But we should claim our beds before they're all taken. Come along?"

Jaune jogged to join him. "See you tomorrow, Ruby! Yang!"

"Bye, Jaune!"

"See you, pretty boy!"

Ren raised an eyebrow. "'Pretty boy'?"

The two ended up securing dorms near the end of the hall, a decent walk away from the cafeteria. Jaune stowed his knife in an available drawer, and both boys collapsed onto their beds. What a day!

"Welcome to Beacon," Ren mumbled.

"Welcome to Beacon," Jaune echoed, smiling.

**A/N Normally I dislike breaking the fourth wall in any sense, even for levity or jokes, but I couldn't help myself when putting in that blacksmith comment.**

**Cannot believe I just wrote 5.4k words. That was the most draining few hours of writing I've done in a while…**

**Also, I can't believe I had to do stone-skipping research for a RWBY fanfiction. It was initially included in Coeur's fic as a paragraph-long throwaway. I just ran with it as an opportunity to build a potential bond.**

**Oh— also, Pyrrha is not level twenty-one. I'm modifying that because there's no way an elite, championship-level fighter has a twenty-plus level gap between her and an assassin, however good Blake might be.**

**Final note: I find myself slipping into first person a LOT when writing this, probably due to the influence of reading Forged Destiny. If I've made any such mistakes that I haven't yet caught, please let me know!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Book 1, Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Firstly, sorry for the late update! I've been stuck without internet in Costa Rica for the past week and a half. On a positive note, however, I've stocked up some chapters in that time to publish, including this one. **

**The usual disclaimer that some snippets of dialogue have carried over from Coeur's fic as well as some minor events (Pyrrha getting Jaune breakfast). I've paraphrased the scene/described it differently, but that event remain Coeur's. **

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**To NamikazeHatake: **

**I don't plan on Blake and Jaune remaining enemies forever... Blake is an integral part of the team, and the two will definitely make up. Whether the pairing will be Knightshade, Lancaster, Dragonslayer (dear God I'm not a fan of that ship name) or Arkos, I won't comment on as of yet. **

**Oobleck/Goodwitch's exposition speeches have been copied. **

**Finally, to reiterate, basically all credit for this fiction's existence and much of its content goes to Coeur. **

He woke early. Days away from Vale Castle had not warped his biological clock, and his training took precedence over physical wants. Most of the dorm remained asleep, a few absent beds signifying restroom breaks or like-minded Heroes. Taking care to avoid the crinkles of bedsheets and the rustle of crumpling pillows, he slid to the floor, donned shoes, and prepared for morning exercise.

A mild scent had begun to fester in his clothes. After orientation, he'd make his way to NPC stores to buy new clothing and wares. For now, running.

The smooth cadence of pattering feet and light breathing skimmed the dawn. His wandering had led him to a large fountain, which marked the beginning and end of a circuitous route. Constitution amounted to the durability, strength, and general ability of the body. Even high constitutions would be hampered by a body broken under beer bottles or excessive eating- the stat was only as useful as the vessel. Jaune intended to keep his in pristine shape.

A few laps in, and another set of feet joined his. Pyrrha jogged up in full battle regalia, smiling.

"Good morning, Jaune! Do you often run in the mornings?" she called.

"Hey, Pyrrha. Yes. It's an old habit," he replied. They kept pace with each other as they completed another lap of the trail. "For me as well," Pyrrha said. "Back in Mistral, I circled my town daily at dawn. There's something freeing about running, wouldn't you say?"

"I agree. You're pacing your own path, forging ahead independent of all others. You dictate the pace. You dictate the destination."

Pyrrha smiled in understanding. The two paced silently, reveling in the act as the sun hauled itself over the horizon and into the sky.

"I think that'll do," Pyrrha declared as they stopped before the fountain. "Let's shower and prepare ourselves for the day. I'll see you at breakfast?"

By the time he arrived back at the dorms, Ren had arisen and was rifling through the drawers in search of anything to keep them and their surroundings sanitary. He happened upon a bottle of cheap shampoo, a bar of soap, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.

"You went running?" Ren said, intrigue in his eyes. Then, he wrinkled his nose slightly. The emotion dampened and faded visibly.

"Yeah. I probably smell terrible. Let's shower?"

"Let's."

The showers were communal. Luckily for the many mortified students, a thick haze of steam had risen, shrouding the air in an impenetrable fog. The natural barrier didn't stop most from hugging their arms around themselves or hunching to deter prying eyes.

Jaune sighed as he rinsed the last of the dust and sweat from his body. He reached for the amulet on instinct to remove it, but stilled his hand. He'd have to eliminate that reflex. The amulet could never come off. His mask could never fade.

The issue of clothes was soon resolved. An NPC was making the rounds, putting uniforms in the drawers. Jaune retrieved his- a white shirt with a dark blazer and black trousers- and changed in the designated changing area. Once finished, he stood before a full-length mirror, inspecting himself.

Had it only been a day and a half when he'd been looking through a similar mirror in Vale Castle, plotting his escape? He wondered how Daphne was doing. Unlike him, she was forever bound to the throne; a Princess Consort was replaceable. If the Princess herself disappeared, the Kingdom would descend into chaos.

He resolved to write to her when he could. At the end of the day, perhaps.

"You look good. It suits you," a voice remarked. Jaune turned, eyeing Ren, whose uniform accentuated the planes of his face and the iridescent pink of his eyes. "I could say the same for you," he replied, grinning. "Let's catch breakfast."

"We have fifteen minutes until it begins," Ren said. "We can take our time."

As the two began a meandering pace to the door, a voice cried out. The NPC had collided with a burly figure. The student muttered a quick apology before turning for the door.

The NPC picked herself off the ground, dusting off her clothes. By the time Jaune and Ren passed, she'd resumed working. Jaune didn't think much of it.

When they entered the dining hall, a voice shouted "Renny!". Somehow, Nora managed to outscream the whole of the bustling cafeteria. Pyrrha brightened as she saw them approach, waving a hand. Jaune replied in kind.

"Morning, Renny," giggled Nora. "Hey, Jauney."

"Nora," Jaune nodded. "Pyrrha. How are the girl's dorms?"

To his happy surprise, conversations had moved from stilted to something approaching normal. Sometimes, he still struggled to find the words, but some innate characteristic helped him traipse through social interaction. He supposed his Charisma helped with the counterbalance.

"Crowded," the redhead replied, pushing a tray of food to him with a smile. "I'm not used to sleeping with so many people nearby."

"We're neighbors," Nora added. "But don't worry, Renny! I'm not going to replace you with some redhead!"

"The thought didn't cross my mind," chuckled Ren over a muffled "hey!" by Pyrrha.

"By the way, Jaune, aren't those your friends?"

Ruby burst through the door dragging a white-haired girl, followed closely by Yang. Jaune didn't know how so much energy fit in such a small frame. When she met his eyes, she waved a hand and strolled over.

"Jaune! Guess what? I made another friend!" she cried. The albino girl's nose wrinkled at the thought. "We are not friends."

"She's just shy," Ruby whispered. "Am not!" hissed the girl in response.

Her eyes widened when she took in Jaune's face. "You! Jaune, was it?"

"Me," he replied blandly. Something about her seemed awfully familiar. Wasn't she that girl at initiation? The girl prattling on and on?

"I'm Weiss Schnee, Heiress to the Schnee Dust Corporation, and I should thank you to be more respectful when meeting strangers!"

"Er..." Jaune looked to Ruby, alarmed, for help. Ruby shrugged.

"Shy," she repeated sagely. Weiss looked ready to implode. Her face had taken on a shade of red not seen in nature.

"Weiss has the bed between me and Yang. She looked pretty lonely, so I thought we could all be friends."

"I didn't ask to speak to you," sniffed the Heiress. "We could easily switch beds if you asked. Then, you could bother your sister instead."

"Nah, I'm good," Yang replied. "Besides, Ruby needs to become independent. I can't coddle her forever. This way, she can be her own person."

"Aww Yang... " cooed Ruby.

"Independence?" Weiss cried. "You are one bed apart, no more than five meters away from each other!"

Nora and Pyrrha snickered at the sight. Ruby smiled too, though her eyes strayed to the cafeteria doors, as though she were waiting for something- or someone.

"Looking for someone?" Jaune asked. She perked up. "Huh? Oh... I asked Blake to join us. I guess-"

As if on cue, a certain black-haired Assassin slipped through the double doors. "Blake!" Ruby yelped. "Blake! Over here!" She raised her hands in the air and waved like she was holding two cones and was directing an airplane to land.

The Assassin didn't so much as turn. Her ears twitched once at the sound, but she continued to march forward, undeterred. She then compiled a sandwich, grabbed a fruit, turned, and left, never once acknowledging Ruby's existence.

For the first time that day, Ruby appeared crushed.

"Why are you so insistent on making friends with the Assassin?" Jaune couldn't help but ask. The question earned him a glare. "Blake is a person too! She needs a little friendship to get her out of her shell. She's just shy, like Weiss!"

The icy-haired girl didn't bother mustering the will to contradict her.

"You should be more wary of their kind," he insisted. "Associating with them is nothing but trouble." How many times had he been shown the failures of his predecessors, royal bodyguards who failed time and time again due to the scheming of a dastardly Assassin? How much blood, royal or otherwise, lay on their hands? Ruby was his first friend. How could he bear her lying in a pool of her own blood, stabbed in the back for EXP by a class whose sole purpose was murder?

When she scowled, her face scrunched into a mask as menacing as it was furious. "Hey! Don't say that! Blake's my friend too! What do you have against her, anyway?"

"She shoved me out of the way as I was about to strike a finishing blow on a Deathstalker, Ruby. Seconds later, she returned and stabbed it in exactly the same spot," he seethed. "There's a reason for the stigma around the Assassin class, and it's not because of their benevolence!"

She glared at him. He glared back. Pyrrha sighed.

"If I may- I think Ruby has a point here, Jaune," she said, though her her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground, as if unable to meet his gaze.

"Blake acted only because she thought you'd be hit by the aftermath of your attack. In my view, she acted in your best interest," she continued, turning a little green and steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze.

A pause.

"You- you think so?" he whispered.

Pyrrha said nothing and closed her eyes. She looked horribly upset to have contradicted him. "Although I also share a... wariness... about the Assassin class," Ren intoned, "I think your assessment of Blake has been tainted in this instance by your preconceptions."

A lump had lodged itself firmly in Jaune's throat. Had he made friends in a day, only to lose them the next over this squabble? Perhaps he'd been too harsh on Blake. Perhaps he'd been prejudiced. He'd admit that. He'd admit anything, really, to stop that horrible veil that seemed to cloak him which drew his friends' eyes away from him as though he were something too terrible to view directly.

To his vast horror, his eyes began to water. "Fine," he choked out, steeling his voice to stop a waver threatening to overtake him. He stood and marched to the door ramrod straight, projecting sheer rage. Someone shouted "Wait, Jaune!". He didn't, instead reaching the door without so much as a hitch in his step, throwing it open, and marching out.

Internally, he felt as though he'd been clocked in the head by something far more painful than a Deathstalker's death throes.

=II=

Two-hundred odd students were marched through the labyrinthine halls of Beacon. Jaune made sure to give his friends- or former friends, he wasn't sure which- a wide berth. He didn't know what to think or how to act. Caught in emotional limbo, he moved mechanically and didn't realize he'd arrived at the first class until he stood before two oaken classroom doors. Two older students guided them into a circular room, and students quickly took seats.

In an effort to avoid Ruby, Ren, Nora, Yang, and Weiss, he snuck in at the end of the line. Students had packed every seat in the room, stretching from end to end. Except for one.

A seat in the corner of the room, shrouded in shadow, the second-to-last seat of the row. The occupant of the last seat blinked at him with large golden eyes.

Blake Belladonna. Assassin.

He walked over with feigned nonchalance and sat down. The Assassin shifted in her seat, and he didn't miss the glare she fixed on him.

A man with starched white shirt, round, reflective glasses, and a mane of green hair took the stage.

My name is Doctor Oobleck," the man whipped out, his words a sonic blur. "I am an Alchemist, Hero, and Professor here at Beacon Academy. During lessons you may refer to me as sir, Doctor, or Mr. Oobleck. You will be having your first official lessons at Beacon today, though before that, I have been asked to introduce you to some of the nuances and rules of the academy and your life here.

"You are here to learn the skills it takes to be Heroes of Remnant," the teacher went on. "You may come from different Kingdoms, but during your tenure here you are expected to have loyalty to only Beacon and Vale. You will attend lessons on various subjects, some practical and others academic. Let me make one thing clear, though some lessons may have no application for combat, they are no less important to your development. A Hero is more than a person who knows how to fight. They must know law, culture, history and a number of other things. We at Beacon will teach you this.

"Heroes are expected to protect the weak. We are bastions of defence against the Grimm that spawn across the Kingdoms, but beyond that, we also protect people against rogue elements of society. Bandits, criminals, raiders… we are the shield which protects the Kingdom and the sword which strikes down the enemies of humanity. But we are not soldiers!" the man slammed a finger down to point at us all, making me jump slightly. "Do not forget this. Wars, skirmishes, and diplomatic incidents between the Kingdoms are not our concern. Due to the Treaty of Heroes drafted after the Great War, all members of the Hero Caste are barred from participating in armed conflict between the Kingdoms."

Jaune leaned his face on one hand, eyes gradually losing focus. Introductions and basics, all common knowledge. As Oobleck began to explain the role of heroes as the economic foundation of society, Jaune's head tipped closer and closer to the desk.

"... Beacon Academy... funding... they do not work for free..."

He snapped up. What?

"Students must pay for all amenities at Beacon, from repairs to having beds cleaned," Oobleck continued.

Shouts of protests erupted at the declaration, some students looking scandalized. The thousands of lien now stuffed under his mattress were, in hindsight, a stroke of genius.

After thirty seconds of pandemonium, voices cooled to worried murmurs. Oobleck cleared his throat. "This model has been used for generations. Every student who has passed through these walls have abided them, and so will those who wish to stay."

Silence.

"During your time here, you will have the opportunity to pursue Quests or Hunts on your own. Beacon is ideally placed near Grimm-infested territory, making for an optimal place to farm lien. The dangers are real- but so are the benefits."

As long as there were Grimm, Jaune needn't worry. Lien would flow easily. Given the rate at which he could dispatch the monsters, an afternoon of farming would pay for food, board, and amenities for a week.

"Exact pricing will be found on your bed tonight, but your first week is free. We will not tax you beyond the basics provided, but extra lien can earn food, private accomodations, new equipment, and the like."

A murmur of interest arose. Jaune perked up as well. Although he and Ren shared a functional relationship, he'd kill for a private room.

"Auctions are also held by NPCs. Should you wish to sell there, 90% of the price shall be returned to you. The Academy has a robust economy of its own, which you all will doubtless experience," Oobleck chuckled.

Perfect. A plan of auctioning drops and stocking up on lien congealed in Jaune's head. The dorms, while fine, were a far cry from the luxury he'd experienced in the King's care. He longed for anything resembling a memory foam mattress.

"Alcohol is strictly prohibited," Oobleck warned, a hint of steel in his voice. "Should you be caught with it, you will be punished.

"A full list of rule sand regulations shall be provided. For now, budgeting for future expenses and balancing your courseload should be the primary foci. With introductions out of the way, our faculty will introduce ourselves."

Four figures stood behind him, each of them decked in varied outfits.

Doctor Oobleck began first. "As you all know, I am Doctor Oobleck. The more Alchemically talented of you will take classes with me, while you all will study history, politics, and Hero theory under me as well."

The Warlock lady who'd opened the portals the day before stood and walked to the fore. "I am Glynda Goodwitch," she said. "I am a Warlock and Deputy Headmistress of Beacon. Apart from my administrative duties, I will teach advanced magic and first aid. I also oversee all combat classes, where you will be graded and judged on your ability to fight one another."

Jaune would have to produce an alibi if he wanted to survive that class without questions. A high-level Knight, perhaps- something close to his actual level. Something honed from years of Soldier-training by the Nobles he'd pretended to be raised by. Anything beyond 35 would appear unrealistic, but an early 30s level Knight with the requisite Agility, Dexterity, Strength, and Charisma, while on the upper end of credibility, would be believable. As for fighting styles? He supposed that there was no use holding back. Other than his limited Active Skills and his reservations to using his Passive, he was talented enough in hand-to-hand combat, and his swordsmanship had attained technical mastery. In such a case, he need not be hampered by a large margin while maintaining his facade.

While he was lost in thought, a portly man stepped up. His smile was a radiant arc, and his jacket screeched gaudily in a blaze of red and gold. ""My name is Peter Port, resident Hero, supreme gentlemen, wooer of fine ladies, embodiment of manl-"

Miss Goodwitch's impatient cough cut him off.

"Ah… my class is Cavalier," he waved towards the words above his head. "I am the resident warrior-type Class among the faculty, and I teach Grimm Studies, Battlefield Strategy, and also hold a number of warrior-type lessons for those interested in the fine art of melee combat. I am also, against all odds, still single, ladies."

"Moving on," a voice interrupted before the room managed to fully comprehend a middle-aged teacher propositioning a room of teenaged girls, "I am Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy. As you can see, I am a Sage. I do not hold lectures or classes within Beacon, though you may be invited to speak with me if I believe there is need. I would like to encourage you all to consider Doctor Oobleck's words well, particularly when it comes to the economy of Beacon. Should you find yourself unable to afford necessary services to survive, it shall be I who steps in. Repeated instances of this, however, will lead to your tenure here coming to an end. You cannot afford to coast by in Beacon," Ozpin raised a mug towards them. "I wish you all luck."

Polite applause smattered through the room.

"That is all for this introduction," Oobleck concluded. "Individual time tables will be made available to you before you retire tonight. From here, you may follow Miss Goodwitch. She will be holding her lesson with you for the rest of today. Welcome to Beacon!"

The bell tolling signalled a brief recess. A black blur flashed by the left side of Jaune's face. Without his stats, he wouldn't have caught a whiff of it. As it were, he turned maddeningly and latched a hand onto the wrist of a certain Assassin.

She froze in her steps. Then, slowly, "I suggest you unhand me if you like your limbs attached to your body."

"Wait! I promise I mean no harm," he assured, staring into her eyes and hoping she'd find truth in his. She visibly softened, as though his words held an unseen weight. Charisma, he supposed. When he let go, she pulled back and massaged the quickly-reddenning skin. Oops. At least she didn't flee.

"I've been made aware that I've been... disagreeable... to you for reasons beyond your control. I've acted childishly, and I hope you'll forgive me that," he said. Then, he fished out a bag from his jacket.

"Here is your share of the lien for the Deathstalker." He held out a hand.

The Assassin looked at his hand, then at his face, then back at his hand again.

And turned around and left.

He watched her go, bag in hand, hand outstretched, gaping stupidly at her receding back. He remembered now that burning sensation, that torrenting rage which had filled him yesterday and tore into him now. If any of his anger had been rooted in irrationality before, he knew with a cold certainty that none of it was now. He didn't know if he'd hated anyone more than he hated Blake Belladonna now.

"Jaune! Jaune!" a familiar voice called. He closed his eyes and made to turn away, but a body crashed into him. Yang, Ren, Weiss, and Nora followed close behind.

"Where were you, you big goof?" Ruby cried. "We couldn't find you anywhere, and now you're here, talking to Blake?"

"I tried to apologize," he mumbled. "She wasn't having it."

"Aww. That's okay! Maybe she just needs some time to cool down," Ruby grinned.

"Why are you here?" Jaune asked. "I- I thought you guys didn't want anything to do with me."

"What? When did we say that?" she said, quizzical eyebrows scrunched together.

He looked down at his shoes. "I... I don't know... we argued- I thought-"

"You're really cute, but your stupidity is a turn-off," Yang griped, smacking him over the head. "And besides, you apologized, right? Or tried to, at least. We're cool."

"We... we are?"

"Jaune, we weren't cutting all ties with you because we thought you were wrong," Ren laughed. "I think Nora's wrong all the time, but look at us."

Nora pinched him. He didn't seem to mind.

"Anyhow... if we're done cheering up the imbecile, can we head to class?" Weiss called. "I think he's tired of waiting for us." She pointed to a uniformed second-year student whose left eye had developed an irritated tic.

"Lead on!" cheered Ruby. "To combat class!"

=II=

Combat class was held in a large, rectangular training hall. As Jaune filed in, he noticed a rack lining a wall filled with weapons, each marked with a name. Their weapons, presumably, though his name was noticeably absent. All he wielded was his dagger, which lay on his waist like a trusted pet.

"Wait until you are told to collect your weapons," Goodwitch admonished. She eyed the room with a stern, unforgiving gaze befitting the weight of the subject material. "Your main opponents will often be Grimm, but Heroes are also called to deal with human opponents, most often other Heroes gone renegade. You won't be able to earn EXP from the sparring in this class, but the combat experience you'll gain should prove invaluable in a life-or-death situation. I expect all of you to treat sparring with the weight of a true duel."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "Battles will be one-on-one. I decide pairings. You will come and collect your weapons, so that I may imbue them with a curse."

Most of the class turned to each other, confused, but Jaune knew what she meant. He'd had a Warlock tutor in Vale Castle. They were among the most talented of combat teachers due to an array of spells which allowed them to mimic battle scenarios without causing bodily damage. They were also as rare a Tier-1 class a there was, and of them, those willing to instruct numbered only a handful in the world. It spoke to Beacon's resources, he supposed.

"This will be a temporary curse which causes an increasing paralysis status effect as you take damage. Once constitution dips to 40%, the fight is over; the spell will cause total paralysis, and I will end the duel. I'll also cast an area-of-effect spell to blanket the arena in protective magic, blunting the force of spells in order to lessen the impact of the more destructive magical attacks."

"Why don't we use aura?" somebody shouted. "Couldn't we stop whenever you wanted us to?"

Miss Goodwitch, to her credit, wasn't fazed by the interruption. "This is an added safety measure," she said. "While it is true that aura, or health as some people like to call it, can be used to dictate a fight, there is always a chance that someone might misrepresent their reserves or choose to endanger themselves by fighting on. Your precise aura level is tied to your Constitution and is therefore not something I, or anyone else, can judge at a distance. It would be very easy for someone to drain and kill themselves in what should be a friendly spar. The curse I will apply removes any chance of such an error. Should any injuries occur, our resident Priest, Kitsune, is on hand."

She pointed to a fox faunus lady leaning against a back wall, standing next to what he presumed was the entrance to the infirmary.

"Class formally begins now. The first fight will be between Jaune Aries and Yang Xiao-Long," she announced.

"Kick ass, Jaune!" Nora shouted, pumping fists into the air.

"Don't kill him, Yang!" Ruby screamed, and Jaune nearly staggered. Did he look that weak? He'd conditioned his body into peak shape, with smooth muscles lining his body. Maybe Yang was just stronger than he'd thought. He'd be cautious.

Speaking of which, his opponent grinned at him, two feral teeth poking through her lips. "I'll have to change your nickname after this, pretty boy," she quipped. "What do you think of 'Crater Face'?"

"Har, har," Jaune bit back as they assumed fighting positions, he unsheathing a dagger and she readying two heavy gauntlets.

Miss Goodwitch quickly applied the curses and returned the equipment. As she did so, Jaune wondered what skills he'd use. His passive was out of the question. The closest he might expose was Earthly Manacles, but he didn't want to reveal information unless necessary. If she pressed him enough, he decided, he'd unleash some Active Skills. His true fighting style relied heavily on Shield of the Heavens and Earthly Manacles. Forgoing them would make for an interesting challenge.

Both fighters squared up.

"Begin!" she said.

Yang burst forward and threw an overhand right almost before she'd finished saying the word. Jaune caught it between the blade and the hilt of his knife, twisting his wrist and deflecting the blow. Her other hand followed with a blinding uppercut, which he turned under, ducking it. She seemed surprised, but his reactions didn't faze her rapid striking pace.

A switch kick blazed to his right side, and he brought an arm down to block. The force hit through his defense, sending him flying a good three feet back despite doing negligible damage to his aura. A one-two of a jab and a straight flew at his face next, but he ducked the first and slipped past the second. Yang looked up, startled. All of her attacks thus far had been blocked or dodged.

As he absorbed her attacks, Jaune began to map her fighting style. She had clearly trained in boxing, but her technique, while good, had holes. Her footwork could be more precise, her punches thrown with more torque. Likely, she'd never faced an opponent against whom she'd lacked punching power, so her speed and strength masked her weaknesses.

Jaune, meanwhile, fought like a porcupine. His style was onstricting, restricting, and whittling, a choking strategy without any inherent weaknesses. He liked to advance and suffocate his opponents, all while frustrating them with brick wall defense. One mistake, and his opponent would be gored.

Against the Beowolf, he'd employed some flash. Yang, however, he'd need to take more seriously- especially since he restricted his active skills.

Her next strike, another overhand right, launched for him, but he twisted his torso, simultaneously ducking the blow and counterslashing with his knife. Too late, Yang realized she'd overcommitted to the blow, and attempted to duck. No such luck. The blade bit a large chunk from her aura and she hopped back, panting.

Jaune's own aura, meanwhile, had hardly sustained damage.

Growling, Yang moved to strike again, but Jaune gained the offensive. With each missed strike, Yang would eat nicks to the head, arms, or legs. As she backed away, face reddenning more and more with exertion, he remained cool and unscratched. He hadn't used any of his abnormal attributes, but the flaws in Yang's technique were limiting her ability to effectively counter him. A final, biting slash cut her aura to 60%. She leaped back, chest heaving, glaring daggers at him.

He smiled cockily, twirling his knife around his finger as he assumed a fighting stance. With his free hand, he beckoned to her to come, as if to mock her. An enraged enemy would strike harder and faster, yes, but they'd also expose more weaknesses. He planned on taking advantage.

The air grew denser. Yang's pupils blazed a deep red, and her mouth practically began to froth. When Jaune advanced, he did so with caution.

She leaped forward again. Had she not learned her lesson? He settled back, ready to bob and weave through the hail of punches.

Her hand pulled back and burst forward, leaving him slipping under it. The fist stopped mid-air. A feint? No matter. He hadn't made a mistake, hadn't overcommitted.

And then her fist burst forward at an impossible blur. His eyes widened as he realized he couldn't dodge. Not completely. He leaned back and the blow caught him on the back of his wrist, sending his blade flying.

Where had that burst of momentum come from? A skill of some sort? When he hit the floor, he rolled, landing back on his feet, although about 10% of his aura worse for wear.

Even against him, she hit like a truck. Backing up, he reassessed his strategy. Was this a one-time ordeal, or could she repeat that strike? He was unarmed now, while she still carried gauntlets.

Grinning, Yang beckoned to him with that same 'come here' hand motion.

Two hands leapt up to frame his head. His feet spaced a distance apart, and he ducked his chin. The form was that of Orthodox Mistralian kickboxing, hands up high in a protective stance, legs ready to strike.

Yang narrowed her eyes as she ran at him. Turn. Strike. Strike. Jab. Jab. Straight. Feint straight, uppercut. His body moved like water, slipping and spilling around her punches, evading them unharmed. He leaned away when she struck at his head and either blocked or stepped back to avoid punches. It wasn't her fault, really. His perception was leagues above what it should be. At the same level, she might've clipped him with a few blows.

As it were, he began to strike back, but not with his hands. Every time Yang stepped in for a head punch or a body blow, he turned a hard shin into her lead leg. The first time, she thought nothing of it. The second, a welt had began to form from the punishment his shin inflicted on the inside of her leg. Although her aura protected her from most of the force, a lightning-fast limb striking a weak portion of another still left bruising physical damage. She tried to mask it, but he could tell the pain bothered her, slowing her punches and draining their power. How could she form a strong base with which to punch if one of her legs was burning her with ever step, throwing her off balance? Another blow to that leg. Yet another. And another. Yang was openly grimacing now, not bothering to hide the stabbing pain. When Jaune looked into her frantic eyes, he knew she'd started to become desperate. Perfect.

As she stepped in for one last frenzied swing, he cracked his shin across her calf with full force. Her aura dropped to 45% as her leg buckled under her. She screamed in agony as she fell, hands splaying to the ground. To her credit, Yang stood back up almost immediately, but her weight rested on her back leg. The last kick, he'd taken care to strike the painful welt. It now appeared a hideous shade of purple. Now, her leg did her more harm than good, sending sparks of agony shooting up her body while slowing down her movement.

"The fight is over," he said. His aura still neared 90% while hers was half that, and her body was in no condition to fight. "Concede."

For a second, she looked as though she wanted to argue, but a streak of pain hushed her.

Then, she smiled. "Didn't think you had it in you, pretty boy. Alright, I give."

The curse's pressure unravelled.

A smattering of applause rang out through the room, mostly from his friends' areas. When he looked up, he saw Ruby staring down at her in wide-eyed shock. "That's the first time I've been beaten by someone my age, you know," Yang said as she limped toward him, grinning. "And badly, too. Yikes. What did I get, one good shot on you?"

Jaune didn't know how, but he could tell she was faking her smile. She was probably still smarting over the defeat. He didn't want to rub it in, and so just nodded.

As Priest Kitsune walked up to treat Yang's injuries, Miss Goodwitch cleared her throat.

"A fair match," she declared. "Mr. Arc, near impeccable technique. Countering strikes by taking Miss Xiao Long's legs out from under her was an inspired approach. As for Miss Xiao Long, remember that your abundant punching power means nothing if it doesn't connect. Consider working on sharpening your movements rather than increasing their quantity. Well done, both of you."

As they walked back, Yang remained uncharacteristically quiet, though she wore that same smile on her face.

"That was a good fight," Pyrrha said eyeing both him and Yang. "You did incredible, Yang!" Ruby gushed. "I couldn't even see some of those punches. That was some sweet defense too, Jaune."

"Thanks, Rubes," Yang said. "But that wasn't my best showing out there. I'll get you back for that." She directed the last bit to Jaune, a hint of challenge in her eyes.

Jaune didn't know what to do. Should he have gone easier? Some part of him knew he'd been lost in the spectacle, too focused on enjoying the fight instead of protecting his image. Had he just alienated a friend, or multiple? Or was he catastrophizing again, like he did with the argument this morning?

Friends were complicated.

The next pairing was Weiss Schnee vs. Sky Lark. Mage vs. Warrior.

The ice mage cast battlefield controlling spells followed by ranged attacks, hampering Sky's mobility and forcing him to eat strikes. Suffice it to say, the fight didn't last long. When starting at long distance, the mage would always have the advantage. It proved decisive here.

The next several fights were Warrior vs. Barbarian, Rogue vs. Rogue, and some other inane combination of semi-skilled adolescents duking it out. None approached Yang's skill or abiliity.

"Ruby Rose," Miss Goodwitch called. "and Russell Thrush." A Duellist who outweighed her. Jaune wasn't sure what Reaper entailed. He hoped it could make up for the physical disadvantages. Hell, Ruby even looked weak, unsure of herself. She froze at the weapon rack, wavering in indecision. Then she ran up to Miss Goodwitch and whispered a question.

Why did she look so nervous? Jaune raised a questioning eyebrow at Yang, who sighed. "Her weapon broke on a mission. Got lodged in a Grimm, and the haft snapped," she explained.

"It can't have been a very good weapon," Pyrrha frowned. "A proper weapon should be able to take wear and tear at that, unless she took very poor care of it."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't really a proper weapon," Yang sighed. "She uses scythes. They aren't exactly in high demand."

"Scythes?" Ren asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I've never heard of anybody using those as weapons."

"Shh," Yang dismissed. "Let's see what Miss Goodwitch has to say."

A class with a strange weapon requirement... hadn't he heard whispers of one during his tenure in training? Something about a new class and difficulty classifying. Was that Ruby?

He silently rooted for her anyways, even as he picked up a sword and held it in entirely the wrong grip. Pyrrha frowned beside him. Internally, he did as well. Her stance was completely off, as well, her feet not spaced far enough apart for sword combat. He cringed as she moved about experimentally like a child stumbling in a vain attempt to walk.

Thrush must have seen it too, because his eyes flashed. A pit settled in Jaune's stomach.

And then Ruby blurred into motion. Literally blurred. She moved with the agility of a level 50 speed-specialist class, blazing past Thrush as though he were moving in slow motion. She struck, though the speed of her swing was vastly superceded by that of her movement itself. Although her Duellist opponent only managed a clumsy block, it was enough to deflect her blade entirely.

With her speed, though, she managed to step inside of his thrust as it neared his endpoint, bypassing his guard entirely. A blade rose up and bit at his unprotected chest-

Before glancing off entirely. Jaune frowned. There was zero power behind that strike. How was that possible? Even Thrust appeared surprised, before he quickly used his other arm to elbow her in her abdomen, forcing her back.

She did so wincing and stumbling. That was an elbow thrust at close range with scarecely enough space to form a proper strike. It was an action meant to create distance, not to dole out damage. Yet she'd still been sent several feet back? Jaune's knuckles turned white as he gripped his seat, whose metal sides were beginning to deform under his grip.

"You can do it, Ruby!" Nora shouted, and the words were echoed by Ren, Pyrrha, and Yang.

Alas.

Thrush, realizing Ruby could effectively deal no damage, began a clumsy, stupid, insane strategy of all-out slashes. It would only ever work if the enemy had so little strength in regards to his constitution that a blade slash wouldn't matter. In this case, the scenario fit perfectly. She deflected a few strikes, sheer force of will buoying her arms and preventing her from crumbling under the blows. But the attacks were too many in number. Thrush soon drew blood with a cut to the arm, and Ruby cried out, her entire limb stiffening. What?! One tiny scratch?

A thrust with the flat of his blade flattened Ruby to the ground. She didn't get back up.

"Russell Thrush is the winner," Miss Goodwitch announced. Thrush lifted his hands in the air in a victory pose, grinning a shit-eating grin which forced Jaune to physically restrain himself from jumping from his seat and caving his face in.

Thrush glanced at him, saw his murderous gaze, and his face whitened. But he didn't look at Jaune's eyes. He followed Jaune's hand.

Blearily, Jaune noticed he'd gotten up from his seat, his fists clenched in rage. He didn't even realized he'd done it. Nor did he realize that he'd ripped two metal armrests straight off of his chair as he did so, the screws crushed under his force. He'd managed to dent several finger-shaped marks into the metal through sheer Strength alone, crumbling the thing like a tin can.

The whole class, even Ruby, looked up at him in silence. Miss Goodwitch cleared her throat. Sheepishly, he sat back down, replacing the armrests as best he could. The armrests magically enchanted for durability. He winced.

"While I appreciate your commitment to your teammate, Mr. Arc, please refrain from damaging school property." His face burned with equal parts embarrassment and rage.

The Priest knelt beside Ruby and whispered a healing spell, but the red-haired girl still didn't get up. Yang cursed and leaped onto the arena, where she gingerly picked Ruby up.

"Miss Rose," the blonde Warlock said, "I would encourage you to improve your striking power. Your defense is good, but that means little if you cannot damage your foes." Ruby nodded stiffly. "As for you, Mr. Thrush, I would consider training your defense. If Miss Rose had greater striking power, you wouldn't be standing here now."

Thrush nodded his head in quick bobs, his wide eyes still flitting to Jaune.

"Good match, Ruby," he said as Yang carried Ruby up. He couldn't manage to put genuine emotion in the tone, his mind still focused on how best to divest Russell Thrush of one of his limbs.

"That was bad luck," Pyrrha said as she came by, pressing a reassuring hand to the girl's shoulder.

"Thanks, guys..." Ruby whispered. "I'd have been better with a scythe... really!"

"Does that have anything to do with your class?" Ren asked. Nora and Pyrrha looked at Ruby expectantly, but Yang shifted uncomfortably, averting her eyes from them. "I'm gonna take Ruby back to the dorms. The curse is still hitting her pretty badly, and I've already fought. The Priest said we could."

"Get well soon!" Pyrrha called to them as they made for the door. Jaune repeated her words, but he still didn't understand what had occurred.

Was Ruby's constitution so low that she couldn't withstand one thrust? And what was that agility? Her movement speed was only slightly slower than his own at maximum strength, and he must have twenty levels on her. Unless she, too, was nearing level 50? If so, how could her Constitution be so shot?

He raised an eyebrow at Ren, who shrugged in response.

=II=

When he found Ruby, she was sitting on a short wall outside of the girls' dormitories, slowly massaging her stiff arm with a hand.

"Hey," Jaune said, sidling up to her.

"Hey, Jaune," she replied, trying to smile but failing. What resulted was an awkward half-grimace before she gave up. "I saw your fight with Yang... that was really impressive. Yang's really, really strong."

She turned her eyes to a closed cabin door. "I don't know if she's gotten over it, actually. Maybe give her a few hours?"

Closing her eyes, she lapsed into silence.

"I saw your fight too," Jaune said. "That was impressive too. You were really fast, faster than anyone that fought today." Not strictly true, but he let the lie go.

She laughed, but her heart wasn't into it. The sound came out as a short bark- or the closest facsimile she could manage. "Doesn't really mean much when I can't do anything to hit him, right?"

Silence again. Jaune began having flashbacks to their first conversation, but he didn't know what to say to comfort her. So he said nothing.

"I would have been better with a scythe," Ruby insisted suddenly.

He paused, and that was more than enough to give him away. "I'm serious! I really would!"

He looked into her eyes. She'd said it with so much sincerity, but how could a curved weapon make up for the strength she appeared to be severely lacking? He assumed her class would give her some sort of strength buff when wielding a scythe. Perhaps it was a drastic improvement? He didn't know, but tried to assert his most convincing tone.

"I believe you."

If his Charisma was worth anything, it'd help him now.

To his relief, Ruby seemed to believe him, her body relaxing and her face flushing and looking away.

"Yang and I are going to get one tomorrow in Vale... there's a free period after lunch," she whispered. "Sounds fun," he replied.

"Come with us?"

He blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," she continued, kicking her feet against the wall. "We could all go together. Like a little adventure, you know?"

"Sure," he smiled. That 11,000 lien was burning a hole in his pocket. He might as well buy her a real weapon. When she turned to him again, he swore her own smile shined brighter than the sun.

=II=

_Dear Daphne, _

_I've arrived at my destination safely. These two days have been more memorable and hectic than almost any back at the Castle. Surprisingly, I've made several friends! Ruby, a cheerful, upbeat speedster; Yang, hotheaded brawler; Ren, logical monk with a sharp wit; Nora, a boisterous Barbarian; and Pyrrha- yes, that Pyrrha- who has thus far been unexpectedly kind. _

_How are you doing? Is your father upset? How's life in the castle? Are there any unusual happenings you'd like to share? _

_I hope I haven't caused you excessive strife, and I can't express how thankful I am for your help. _

_Regards, _

_Your friend, Jaune. _

**A/N As you might see, Jaune isn't the most emotionally intelligent of people. Not yet. **


	5. Book 1, Chapter 4

Chapter 5

**A/N Disclaimer: Some exposition dialogue from characters is taken from "Forged Destiny" **

The three of them met up outside of the cafeteria in the morning. Jaune had gone running with Pyrrha and had showered thereafter, leaving his hair in a wild, damp mop. Ruby looked perfectly cherub in her red and black outfit. Yang, meanwhile, looked as though she'd been run over by a truck, and the truck had then backed up to finish the job. Disheveled hair, red eyes, slouched posture. She wore a leather jacket and light green combat pants which looked about as hastily done as the rest of her appearance.

"Morning, Jaune!" Ruby said.

"Morning, Ruby, Yang," Jaune greeted.

"... morning," Yang wheezed. He gave her a once-over with a raised eyebrow, to which she cracked a halfhearted grin. "See something you like, pretty boy?"

He paused. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Yang's just not a morning person," Ruby laughed, and her sister nodded blearily in affirmation. The three set off down the road as the morning sun arched into the sky. The road to Vale wasn't long, and Ruby regaled them with stories about her improving relationship with Weiss to keep them entertained.

Marble roads of Beacon gave way to paved ones as they left the school and entered the district of richer Heroes and Nobles. Jaune recognized some of the opulent buildings lining the road. He'd been to Vale before and still retained some contacts hidden in this wealthier area.

Ruby needed a scythe, but there probably wouldn't be one of high quality in any Hero store. Thankfully, Jaune had a plan.

Before they moved into another district, he stopped them. "I know this might seem strange," he said, "but would you mind waiting for me here before we continue on? I'll be back soon, I promise. I just need to take care of something."

"Err... sure," Ruby frowned. "Yang and I can wait in that cafe, can't we?"

"Don't be too long, okay?" Yang warned. "We need to head back before Combat class starts."

"I'll only be a few minutes," Jaune promised, ushering them to open cafe seats.

He left down a road leading into an alleyway at a jog, picking up speed as he slipped through the streets. Paved road gave way to cobblestone, and the width of the alleyways shrank progressively. As he ducked between two buildings, he smiled. He knew someone hidden in this labyrinthine series of passages, someone who'd chosen to live- or, more specifically, retire- here precisely because he didn't want intrusion.

A few steps later, he stopped before a nondescript black door. Even from outside, he could hear the heavy clanging of metal on metal, the process of forging in place. The sounds ceased a few seconds later.

"Samson!" he called, knocking twice on the door. "Open up! It's Jaune!"

A few seconds later, an eyeball glanced through a peephole in the door. A sigh. Then, the door swung open.

"You know, kid," a burly, grizzled old man with soft gray eyes began, "You're the last person I expected to see here."

"May I come in?" Jaune smiled.

"Are you going to go away if I refuse?"

"No."

"..."

Heaving a sigh, the man sauntered back in, the door swinging open behind him. Jaune followed, smiling. He didn't know how- Samson didn't show any emotion- but he could sense the muscular man was happy to see him.

Samson Flameheart, former Royal blacksmith, now retired. One of less than 10 Blacksmiths in the world with a level over 35, he was a rare breed held in high regard. Only high-level Heroes and royal functionaries could request his services. Samson did not take orders. He chose who to serve, and he had many suitors for his services. The man had been the one to forge his first blade, and also the one who'd crafted the razor-sharp dagger hanging from his waist now.

"Quite a stunt you pulled," Samson grunted, his back still turned. "King was furious."

Jaune winced, settling down on top of a metal stool. "You heard about that?"

"Oh, he kept it under wraps, but I have my ways," the Blacksmith said. He pulled up another stool and heaved his considerable bodyweight atop it.

"So," he gruffed, crossing his arms. "You're here because you want something forged, I take it."

"Yes," Jaune nodded.

"Ain't even going to pretend you're here to see your old pal Sam?" he barked. Jaune furrowed his brow. "Huh? Why would I? Though I am glad to see you, I suppose."

Samson laughed, and the full-throated sound shook the room. "As awkward as ever. There's the Jaune I know. You realize I'm retired, right?"

"I was hoping you'd come out of retirement briefly to make two things for me," Jaune smiled.

The Blacksmith raised an eyebrow. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you like me," Jaune replied, his voice carrying the edge of absolute certainty.

Samson stared at him for a few seconds, then chuckled.

"I suppose I do, kid. Alright. Just this once, and it won't be cheap. What do you need?"

"A new sword and a scythe," Jaune recited.

"A scythe?" Samson frowned. "Hmm... haven't made one of those in a while. I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to repurpose one of the poleaxes for the job. You want the highest quality, I take it?"

"The best."

"Even discounted, that'll amount to at least 6,000 lien."

"Understood."

"Fine," the Blacksmith sighed. "I've a Mistralian silver blade in stock. The poleaxe will take a little while. I'll give you a receipt, but I'll have it reforged to a scythe by tomorrow. You can come collect it then. Whom is this for, so I know the approximate measurements?"

"A lady on the smaller side, about five feet tall," Jaune beamed. "Thanks, Sam!"

"Don't mention it," the man said. "You can repay me by never visiting me again and allowing an old man to retire in peace." He tore a piece of paper from the wall and scribbled an order number on it before handing it to Jaune. For his part, Jaune drew out a stack of lien he'd withdrawn from his makeshift piggy bank of a bed mattress and handed most of it to Samson.

"Will do," Jaune said cheerfully, completely missing any inflection in the other man's tone. "Bye! I'll send someone to pick it up tomorrow!"

"Good riddance," Samson grumbled under his breath.

He made it back to Ruby and Yang after a few minutes of running. Yang had taken to tapping her foot at lightning speeds against the ground, while Ruby was lying facedown on the cafe table.

"I'm back!" Jaune called, walking up to them. Ruby perked up at the sound of his voice.

"Where were you?" Yang asked, her face leaning on her hand. "That was like two hours!"

Jaune blinked. "That was like ten minutes..."

"Eh, same thing."

"Can we go get me a scythe now?" Ruby interrupted, her face split with an excited smile. She hopped to her feet and moved to walk down the street, but Jaune caught her wrist before she could go.

"Wait!" he cried. "Here."

He thrust the receipt into her hand. "I comissioned one for you!"

"Oh, wow! Really?" Ruby cheered. Her eyes scanned the receipt, then widened.

"Ehh?! Ehhhh?!"

Yang looked over before she, too, balked. Then, she whistled lowly. "Damn, Jaune. A Mistralian silver scythe? That must have cost a lot."

"Yeah, like 3,000 lien!" he smiled.

"EHHHH?!" Ruby gasped. She appeared to have lost the ability to form coherent thoughts.

Yang blinked. "Have I ever mentioned how attractive you are?"

"Jaune, this... this is too much!" Ruby spluttered, picking herself off the ground. "I- we- I can't possibly pay you back!"

"You can pay me back in other ways," Jaune replied.

"Err- ehhhhh?!"

Jaune frowned. Ruby was making that noise a lot. He wondered what it meant. Even Yang had turned a shade of deep crimson.

"Is something wrong?" he wondered. "You can pay me back by being my friends! Isn't this what friendship is about?"

Ruby collapsed. So did Yang.

"Of course," the blonde laughed weakly. "Friendship."

/*/

Ruby didn't stop insisting that she make it up to him the whole way back. The receipt she kept safely cupped between her palms the whole way, as though afraid it might disappear if she put it in her pocket.

Yang, meanwhile, decided to take the gesture as a romantic overture despite Jaune's insistence otherwise. Poor Ruby was still stammering when they entered Miss Goodwitch's classroom, her face having blushed for the best of half an hour.

When they finally settled down, Goodwitch announced the first fight: Ren against a Martial Artist Jaune hadn't heard of. Ren was a Monk, a tier-1 Hero, and performed to that capacity, utterly dominating his opponent.

Next up was Cardin Winchester fighting the Assassin, Blake Belladonna. Predictably brutal finish, though Blake moved with a speed that suggested a high level.

"I've worked out the costs needed to finance our own private rooms," Ren said as he and Jaune sat on their beds, waiting the last few minutes before curfew. "With included amenities, meaning en-suite shower, security, weapon and armor maintenance, cafeteria meals, laundry, heating, lighting, and insurance, the costs total a thousand a month for each of us. If we were to share a room, it'd be 800 a month for each of us. Quite the saving."

Jaune nodded. By hunting solo and not having to split the money, he could easily cover the thousand for a single dorm. Something about living with a companion, however, had grown on him. He enjoyed Ren's company, and the boy was an immaculate roommate: never snored, was never sloppy, never complained, never did anything remotely irritating.

"Let's go for the double room, if that's alright with you? Unless you'd rather share with Nora?"

"We're not like that," Ren rolled his eyes, then grinned. "But for what it's worth, I wouldn't have any complaints sharing a place with you. We might be able to funnel the extra savings into luxuries."

"I have a decent amount in savings," Jaune mused. "Enough to cover at least the first few months. Perhaps we should stock up on more tomorrow?"

"A raid in the Emerald Forest?" Ren smiled. "Let's do it."

The Forest, a hotspot for Grimm spawn, was an invaluable farm for lien. The two of them might clear several hundred each if they spent the day hunting Grimm.

"We should invite Nora as well," Ren continued. "I'm mainly suggesting this so she doesn't stalk me for a week when she learns I went hunting without her." His smile suggested otherwise.

"Sure," Jaune hedged. More people meant a greater split in revenue. Perhaps he'd treat the upcoming raid as an opportunity to map out the area instead.

/*/

Ruby and Yang were noticeably absent the day of the raid. Jaune suspected she'd gone to retrieve her Scythe and had dragged Yang along. He, Nora, and Ren met outside the gate to the Forest, which was located a short walk from Beacon itself. The trees there shone a verdant green in stark contrast to the horrors which lay within. Nora appeared excited, Ren as calm as usual.

"I went hunting with Pyrrha yesterday," Nora explained as they entered the forest. "We didn't really earn much lien, but we found all the great hunting spots for Grimm! With the three of us, we should be able to destroy everything pretty easily. Mountains of lien, here we come!"

"Woot woot," cheered Ren, though his tone was incongruous with his words.

They walked forward for another two minutes, seemingly all in one direction.

"Nora?" Ren finally asked.

"Yes, Renny?"

"Are you still leading us to the hunting spot?"

"Hunting spot?" Nora repeated, brow furrowed. "Oh, that! That's old news. I got lost like three minutes ago!"

"..."

"Oh, look! Grimm!"

True to her word, a foxlike Grimm burst through the treeline, charging at them in a straight line. Nora screamed and charged, but the thing was remarkably agile, dancing around her blows. Despite the fact that she'd probably have crushed the thing with a strike, it survived her assault undamaged, always a step too fast for her strikes.

Ren pursed his lips. "Should I...?"

"Don't worry about it," Jaune laughed, pointing a finger. A clanking sound jarred the air as a chain of interlocking aura rose from the ground, snatching and gripping a leg of the Grimm in a vice. The fox Grimm was halted mid-flight, suspended just long enough for a hammer to catch its skull.

"Earthly Manacles," Jaune explained to Ren even as Nora celebrated wildly in the background. "One of my more favored active skills." It was also the first technique he decided to reveal. Manacles seeemed a reasonable addition to a Knight, what with their defensive prowess and chainmail use. Jaune's manacles often proved invaluable in combat, and his hiding them irked something primal in his brain, producing an itch he had to scratch. Those manacles acted like extra limbs. Fighting without them now would be akin to fighting one-handed.

Against Grimm, they acted as deterrents or pivot points, propelling him along or dragging them down for easier finishes. They, together with his passive, provided an efficient suppression mechanism, often halving or decimating Grimm mobility.

Against humans, if a manacle latched an iron grip around a leg, the fight might as well be declared over.

"Did you see that?!" Nora called, walking over. "I just went smack and it went all kabloosh!"

"Very nice," Ren laughed.

They continued in the direction the fox Grimm had come from, hoping to ascertain a sizable spawn location. As luck would have it, a falconlike Grimm descended above them, which Ren quickly decapitated, and a lizardlike Grimm burst out from the bushes, which Jaune bisected in a stroke.

They were getting closer, they realized, as more and more Grimm burst out from the foliage and attacked them. Several minutes passed as they hacked through both the undergrowth and several weak Grimm harassing them, making their way farther and farther in.

"Here's where we are," Ren noted, pointing to a grove of trees in a map he'd secured. His finger traced about three-quarters west of the center line. According to the map, there'd be a clearing ahead. Was that the Grimm spawnpoint?

The clearing loomed ahead, and a few slashes to interceding tree branches later, they arrived. Thankfully, it was empty, save for the mass of black mist gathering in the center. Grimm of all sizes poured slowly out, some resembling jackalopes, others monkeys, snakes, or larger beasts.

"Jackpot," Ren breathed, two batons sliding into his hand and at the ready.

"Let's do this."

Several of the larger Grimm focused on them immediately, closing in on them with growls and low roars. At the same time, a field of aura scythed through the ground around Jaune, Ren, and Pyrrha, several Earthly Manacles swimming through the earth like circling serpents, coils bursting through soil in writhing waves.

The first few to pass through became entangled, their limbs snatched by Earthly Manacles, allowing Nora to smash them with full force. Needless to say, they did not survive.

Their fight drew the attention of the rest of the Grimm present. There must have been ten or twenty of them bunched in the clearing, eyes dripping blood red. Jaune readied his blade.

Carnage ensued.

The Grimm advanced first, only to be entangled in the massive minefield that was the Earthly Manacles. Like giant, autonomous chains, they tripped Grimm, dragged them, or bore into them, each action impeding their ability to move. They became, in effect, sitting ducks for Ren and Nora to pick off. While his companions burst through foes from the left and the right, Jaune tackled the middle, and soon his blade, too, was stained with Grimm carcass.

It wasn't a fight. It was a slaughter. These Grimm, which most first-year students would undoubtedly have had to take precautions against, were slaughtered in droves. Jaune's restrictive abilities brought the maximum out of Nora's lack of agility and dexterity, while Ren hopped from Manacle to Manacle, his superior agility allowing him to use Jaune's aura projections as platforms from which to attack.

Five minutes later, not a Grimm remained. All that was left was a series of loot drops and a cumulative 350 lien in earnings.

"That... was... EPIC!" Nora screamed. "Yes! Yes! Yes! That was like target practice! Wham, bam, and they all went down!"

"Your active skill is pretty useful for slowing enemies down," Ren smiled, splitting the money evenly and handing both of his partners their shares. "By producing what amounts to a field status debuff for opponents, your teammates all benefit. I must say, this has been significantly more productive than I'd expected."

"I agree," Jaune returned, sporting his own grin. "We should continue working together. At this rate, we'll have enough to afford private rooms in a week of farming."

"A week? More like a few days!" Nora laughed.

As the sun slid over the sky and began its downward journey, the pungent scent of dying Grimm stained the air.

/*/

As the day moved to a close, the trio looped back to camp almost a thousand lien richer. Nora hummed a happy tune, and her mood was infectious. Even Ren had a small smile fixed on his face. As they passed through the gate, Jaune caught sight of a certain red hoodie on a certain small girl.

"Ruby!" he cried. She turned and positively bloomed as she saw him approach. Her body blurred in movement as she leapt at him, hugging him like an anaconda. Jaune didn't miss the large Mistralian silver scythe strapped to her back, shimmering in the afternoon sun.

"Jaune! Jaune! I picked up the scythe!" she cried. "Her name is Crescent Rose and she's amazing! Pyrrha, Weiss, Yang, and I went hunting today, and we totally killed it! You should've seen me. I'm so much better with a scythe, I swear!"

"I believe you," Jaune laughed, ruffling her hair. By the time he managed to extract her off of him, the rest of her team had arrived.

"Oh!" Ruby gasped, preening under his touch. "I almost forgot! We found a dungeon! It was a little bit off to the side of the-"

"What do you think you're doing?!" hissed Weiss. "You can't just give valuable information like that to an incompetent buffoon, or anyone else for that matter!"

"But Jaune's really strong! He might be able to help!" Ruby protested.

"Fine, just a buffoon, then, but still hardly someone who should have access to that kind of information! What if he sells it to the highest bidder? What if he organizes his own team and beats us to the punch?" Weiss argued, eyeing Jaune with a suspicious eye. He didn't know quite what had irked the girl so much about him. It couldn't have been that brief interaction when they first met, could it? Would she really hold such a grudge?

"Hey! Jaune wouldn't do that! He's a Knight!" Ruby said crossly, then turned to him. "You wouldn't... right?"

"Your secret's safe with me," he promised despite a guilty stab in his chest. "And us as well!" Nora added from behind him. There was an audible slap as Weiss facepalmed. "Great. Two more people with whom to split the savings."

"Assuming we'll join you, of course," Ren added, brow raised.

"You will, won't you?" Ruby pleaded, her silver eyes wide.

"Sure. Why not? It sounds like it might be fun," said Jaune. "Ren? Nora?"

"Count us in!" The orange-haired girl somehow retained enough Stamina to pirrhouete in excitement.

"Great!" Ruby's confident smile, however, wavered briefly. "Oh! I forgot! I also invited a new friend, Blake from Combat class. She told me she needed to think on it, but I have a feeling she's coming."

"Blake?! The Assassin!?" Weiss's eyes bulged almost comically. "Have you suffered a recent blow to the head?!"

"Weiss..." Ruby pouted. "Blake's really strong! She can help us out a lot!"

"And also slit our throats while we're sleeping," countered Weiss, pacing in irritated circles. "Which, may I remind you, is the purpose of her class?"

Ruby visibly sank at her's comments, and so did Jaune's heart at the look on the girl's face. She looked as though someone had crushed her favorite toy.

"To be fair, thus far, she's done nothing but help us," he argued, and Ruby brightened with hope. "She could've easily pretended to accept my apology and taken the lien I'd offered her. She didn't. That doesn't seem like a mercenary move. Besides, she had pure motives in saving me from the Deathstalker. I think we should let her join."

Honestly, he wasn't keen on allowing an Assassin into their party either. While a ranged offensive might prove useful, Assassins were traditionally solo classes, and operated as such. An Assassin befitting their class might easily seek profits for only themselves. Blake, however, based on an admittedly small sample size of precedent, seemed different to the norm. He spoke more because Ruby looked as though she were about to cry, her face downcast and hidden in her sleeves.

"Jaune..." Ruby whispered, looking up at him and practically glowing.

"Ruby did discover the cave," Pyrrha pointed out, though a frown still remained on her face. "As the de facto owner of that information, she has a right to invite whomever she chooses."

"Pyrrha!" cried Ruby, and now her eyes were truly watering.

"Perhaps adding ranged support might not be a bad idea," Ren hedged, though he still seemed somewhat uncertain.

"Ren!" By now, Ruby appeared well on the way to waterworks. Even Weiss couldn't hold under her assault of sheer cuteness.

"Fine," Weiss grumbled. "Who am I to argue with the will of the group? But if something goes wrong, I'll be saying 'I told you so' all the way to the grave."

"Yes! It's decided!" Ruby cheered. "Dungeon hunting, first thing tomorrow!"

=II=

First thing tomorrow did not, in fact, turn out to be dungeon hunting. Rather, Yang gave Jaune the sword Samson had forged for him, a nice Mistralian silver longsword with a bejewelled handle. They'd picked it up en route to grab the scythe.

With all of their equipment prepared, all eight members of the team moved out for the Dungeon. Pyrrha lead the way, making liberal use of markers for direction, while Ruby tried her best to distract Weiss from Blake, and vice versa. An acrid tang soon filled the air, a tellate sign of Grimm. As they brushed aside the greenery, a dark, stone opening pulsating magic entered into view. Jaune breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I propose a rotation-based battle strategy," Pyrrha declared. "Two people in front act as tanks, while the rest attack from behind. Weiss can act as support, controlling enemies and harrying them for easier kills. When each tanker drops 10% Constitution, switch out to teammates."

"I can act as support as well," interjected Jaune. A few sets of Earthly Manacles burst into existence, burrowing like giant serpents through the Earth. Blake leapt far back, eyes narrowed, while Yang and Ruby gasped.

"A complex aura projection of large caliber?" Weiss frowned. "Shouldn't these active skills take massive INT and WIS to control?"

"My Passive allows me to substitute DEX for WIS in magic-related combat," Jaune lied.

"Perfect! Then you and Weiss can support, while Yang, Nora, and I can tank. If any one of us flags, feel free to step in. Are we in agreement?" Pyrrha summarized, looking every bit the confident commander. Nods all around.

They entered the dungeon in the specified formation, Pyrrha and Yang at the front, the rest bringing up the rear. Ren picked a dried torch off of the wall, and a quick spark from Yang lit it. The walls of the place were mossy and damp cobblestone, structurally supported by an unseen magic. It wouldn't collapse unless all party members left after killing the final boss. Jaune suspected it'd be an Elder Grimm of similar caliber to the Deathstalker, if weaker.

A sound of snuffing echoed from up ahead, perhaps the noise of a sniffing Canis or Geckan.

"Up ahead," warned Pyrrha, unsheating her blade. Jaune settled into a low fighting stance, his sword angled before him, while the rest of the group also assumed aggressive positions. An opening to a large chamber lay ahead. What awaited us there seemed obvious.

"I'll destabilize their feet, while you damage them and force them back?" Jaune whispered to Weiss, who nodded. "I'll do my part. You'd better do yours," Weiss hissed.

"That goes for you, too," she directed at Blake, who glanced at her with undisguised contempt.

"Guys," Jaune warned. "Let's save the squabbles for later. We've Grimm to kill."

Pyrrha and Yang went first, fanning out with their defenses up. Rows of red eyes greeted them from the dark, and lizardlike forms emerged, hissing, claws ready to strike.

"Geckans!" Pyrrha cried as they charged. They filled a good half of the room, measuring a half a dozen in total. "Control!"

"On it," Jaune and Weiss called simultaneously. A glyph of ice sent slowing frost and ice creeping up the legs of a Geckan, while diving Manacles knocked others off balance. "Mine!" laughed Ruby, and her body blurred as she made for an off-balanced Geckan. Jaune blinked. Her speed had somehow increased from a mere few days earlier, and her scythe's slash drew a crescent moon over the darkness. The Geckan burst like a tomato under an anvil.

"See?" Ruby said, looking inordinately pleased. "Told you I could fight."

Pyrrha slowed the attackers, retreating when necessary to avoid damage, while Nora adopted a "smash now, ask questions later" approach. She left openings, but Ren filled them whenever a Geckan tried to take advantage, dicing them with consummate speed.

Jaune didn't need to do much. The group of Grimm lay slain without a swing of his blade, and no group member sustained much aura damage. A few throwing daggers lay embedded in the Geckans' sides courtesy of their resident Assassin, who flitted between the middle and the rear of the group.

"Watch where you're throwing those knives," sniffed Weiss, giving Blake side-eye. "Some of those almost hit me!"

"If I wanted to hit you, you'd be dead," Blake calmly replied. Though the bottom half of her face was hidden beneath a mask, her eyes glinted in amusement. Weiss gnashed her teeth in response.

The next chamber went much the same, though Nora switched out for Yang halfway through the assault. Their opponents were Canis, and the only advantage they held lay in numbers, something Weiss and he easily nullified. Ruby, Ren, and Blake caught most of the creatures entangled in crowd control, while Yang and Pyrrha were more than sufficient to destroy those that slipped through.

The group forged ahead in high spirits, grinding through cavern upon cavern...


	6. Book 1, Chapter 5

**A/N **

**Thanks again to all who have taken an interest in this story! **

**To an anonymous reviewer: I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. I agree that it's a good deal faster paced than Coeur's story thus far, but I've tried not to sacrifice planning or plotting. Coeur's style of writing includes a lot more introspection by Jaune, who, as a fish-out-of-water, needs significantly more internal monologue and exposition to introduce him to the world. For Paragon Jaune, this isn't the case.**

**Also, the pacing is rapid at the moment because the plot sticks fairly closely to Forged Destiny for a good book and a half. Some of the details Coeur adds I don't see value in repeating, such as my cutting off of a huge chunk of Oobleck's speech about Hero economics by having Jaune sleep through it. I'd say in general, his writing style lends itself to longer sentences and phrases, which I sometimes find extraneous. Add to that the fact that I'm basically repeating a lot of plot points, and I think a faster pace for now is justified. **

**While the pacing won't reach Coeur's, it'll certainly get slower as things progress. I'll try my best to make the transition as smooth as possible. **

**It's been a few days since I've updated, mainly because I've had a lot of work to do, this chapter was fairly difficult to write, and I've been devoting time to my other fic. But I've finally managed to get this one out. Hopefully it was worth the wait. **

**Thanks all for the reviews! Now, on to the chapter… **

"Switch," Nora gasped. "Jaune!"

He nodded, leaping forward, longsword a fluid vision which blocked, parried, and drove back the enemy Grimm.

"How many of these rooms are there?" Weiss panted. "It's been two hours!"

"Three," grunted Ren, taking off the head of a jaguar-like Grimm with a swipe. "We should be nearing the end."

"That's what you said three chambers ago," said Ruby as she leaned on her scythe, sweat matting her brow. "I... I feel like I'm about to pass out!" She made good on that by promptly passing out.

Grunting, Jaune charged the two remaining Grimm. His blade flashed in wide circles, moving at speeds far beyond their capability to counter. Airtight swordplay burned into his mind through tens of thousands of repititions came to the fore, and every slash cut a deep gash. Combined with the support of Earthly Manacles to immobilize, and they didn't last twenty seconds.

"Let's rest," he agreed. Weiss had some color to her cheeks, Yang was breathing heavy, Ruby was unconscious, Ren was panting, Nora was lying flat on her back, and even Pyrrha sported a light sheen of sweat. Blake, who'd appeared unflappable, undid her mask to wipe the sweat from her brow.

Jaune had seen his fair share of alluring women before. The King's court didn't lack attractive people. There was something ethereal about Blake, however, as she dabbed the sweat from around her golden eyes. She carried an angelic beauty beneath her cowl which glowed in the dim light, so incongruous with her earthen surroundings. She noticed him staring and glanced back, a small smile twitching the corner of her lips.

"-Jaune," a voice called.

He blinked, turning to face Pyrrha. Dimly, he realized that she'd called his name multiple times. If she noticed anything abnormal, she didn't comment.

"When we begin again, I think we should serve as group tankers, at least until Yang or Nora recovers to 75% constitution," Pyrrha proposed. "You haven't taken much damage at all, have you?"

"I'm prepared to tank," he replied absently, sweeping to encompass the room. Ruby had recovered somewhat, the only sign of her having fainted a paleness to her usually rosy cheeks. The rest of the team, although winded, seemed ready to forge on- except for a Mage and an Assassin, who had begun trading barbs.

"- nearly hit me with an ice lance," Blake said, her cat ears twitching.

"'If I wanted to hit you, you'd be dead'," Weiss snorted, parroting Blake's earlier words. The Assassin's eyes narrowed.

"Guys, guys!" Ruby interjected. "We're all a team, right? Can't we all get along, at least until the end of this raid?"

Weiss turned away with a "hmph!" and a flick of her hair. Blake shrugged.

The tunnel ahead lead to what seemed a large chamber, bigger than any they'd encountered thus far. A dull panting reverberated across the stone walls, and Jaune stiffened.

"Beowolf," he announced. "Be ready."

They spilled into the room and assumed position immediately. A muscled frame of black fur and flaming eyes greeted them, towering high in the air. It appeared significantly bigger than the one he'd encountered by the pond, and even its bone markings appeared different.

"King Beowolf," Ren informed, tensing. "Stronger, tougher, larger, faster. The Alpha of a pack."

Its eyes latched onto them.

There was a blink's instant between thought and action. One moment it stood ready at the other end of the room. The next, it was upon them, hailing down sharp claws. Even Pyrrha didn't react in time, leaving Jaune to deflect three blows with wide slashes. His blade ripped gashes in the air, knocking the blitzing paws aside. Even so, the transmitted force cracked the ground beneath. Pyrrha, sword flashing, charged in, drawing some of the fire by engaging the creature at another angle. A few Earthly Manacles wound into the them, latching grips around one of its legs. Although they didn't halt the massive creature, they grounded it, depriving that limb of its leaping power and exerting fierce drag.

Restricting it only seemed to increase the Grimm's aggression. It wrenched the leg, pulling forward despite the prohibitive force and growling enranged barks. As it hunched in preparation to pounce, however, its front foot caught a reflective sheen of ice on the ground. Weiss grinned as it slipped, its massive body crashing to the floor.

Rose red streaked straight for its head, telltale Mistralian silver drawing a bright line of light behind her-

Before her own foot caught the same piece of ice not two yards from the King Beowolf's head.

She yelped even as the thing leapt and swiped for her, its eyes in frenzied excitement. Several tons of sheer muscle bore down on a hundred odd pounds of huntress who had but a scythe before her and little strength to support it.

Jaune _moved_.

One moment, the claw appeared poised to bore several fatal holes directly through Ruby's chest. The next, he was before her, knocking her aside as the King Beowolf's massive claws found solid purchase on a new target.

A burning sensation ripped several gashes across his chest, and he cried out in pain. As he fell, he hit the ground hard, spewing dust into the air. Dimly, he heard his name called out in panic over the din, but had no time to contemplate a response. The next attack was coming. Through sheer leverage, he managed to deflect it with the flat of his blade. By the time its head dipped toward him, aiming to bite a chunk out of him and finish what it had started, he was on his feet and in retreat.

Two sword strikes drew wounds on the Grimm's snout and it roared, peddling back, the dust clearing before its body.

As he retreated, he found several sets of disbelieving, frozen eyes trained on him. "What are you waiting for?" he screeched, hacking. "Go!"

Pyrrha reacted first. Capitalizing on its bewilderment, she managed to score two cuts beneath its eyes. As it reared back in pain, Jaune called out a hasty batteplan. "Yang! Blake! Pyrrha! Pincer!"

His teammates reacted at once. Pyrrha approached from the left while Yang and Blake struck from the right. He charged at the beast from the front, shouting to grab its attention. By the time it recovered from their flurry of assaults, Pyrrha bore down from the left, while Blake and Yang approached striking range from the right. Before it could deal with either group, however, Jaune had arrived in front, his blade already in motion.

The King Beowolf made a decision. Swiping in a broad arc, it slammed into Jaune's attack, forcing him back before continuing and stopping Pyrrha's strike. Stopping what it perceived to be the most dangerous threats, however, still meant it left two deadly strikers at close range.

Yang delivered a charging punch directly to the ribs as Blake leapt above her, running up the beast's body and carving a line of destruction.

It careened to a side and bucked, trying to throw her off, but Blake held on by two points of contact, her twin swords embedded in its flank.

As she ran, she tore a gash of sheer flesh all the way up the neck, where she was stopped by the back of the Beowolf's skull. She twisted. It went limp.

There was no cheer of victory, only a shocked silence. As the adrenaline waned, Jaune could feel his rent flesh like flaming tongs on his chest. Even then, it had already begun the scabbing process, a healing speed courtesy of his high constitution.

"Are- are you okay?" whispered Ruby. She inspected his chest and wilted at the sight. "I saw the Beowolf get you with the- the- and then it kept-"

"I'm alright. I'm at about 60%," Jaune assured. Really, his meter hovered around 75%, but a lower number was easier to expliain.

"I don't even know what to say," Ruby said, her voice tiny and frail. "If that had hit me, I don't even want to imagine... thank you, Jaune, really, I don't-"

"It's okay. But can you promise me one thing?" he said, crouching until they were at eye level. "Sit out for the rest of the Dungeon."

She flinched. "I... I can fight! I really can!" she breathed. "Did you see me back there? I'm not useless! I'm not! I can-"

"I'm not saying you're useless," Jaune started, but she cut him off again. "I'll help! I won't make that mistake again, I swear! Please, Jaune, I can't go back to being... to being..."

She didn't finish the thought. "I belong here," she finished, her voice barely audible, tears in her eyes.

"You almost died," Jaune spat. "Can you imagine how I'd feel if that claw hit? You're my first true friend, Ruby. Did you know that? The boss in the next room will be an order of magnitude more difficult. If a King Beowolf almost... I can't take that chance."

"Oh..." whispered Ruby, her knees buckling. "Ohhhh..."

She tried to muffle her sobs in her sleeves, but they did nothing to stem her tearful hiccups. The whole group waited in an uncomfortable silence as she broke down, collapsing to the ground.

"Why me?" she choked out between sobs. "I'm fast... I'm strong... it's- it's my constitution, isn't it?"

His silence answered her question. The bawling only continued. He tried to bend down and offer a consoling hand, staying by her as her tears slowed to a trickle. They stayed that way for several minutes, her face buried at first in her sleeves and then in his arms.

Then-

"No..."

"What?"

"No."

"I don't understand."

"I found this Dungeon," Ruby said, a quiet steel in her tone. She looked up at him, eyes red but defiant. "I'm the one who organized this, I invited everyone. I say I'm going, so I'm going. That's that."

She glared up at him, as if daring him to disagree.

"Ruby, you could die," he pleaded.

"No, I won't, I won't!" she insisted.

"Guys?" he looked around the room in search of a sympathetic face. "Someone talk some sense into her."

Uncomfortable silence.

"Technically, she is group leader," Ren admitted. "I wouldn't recommend battling again, given the risks, but it's not my decision to make."

"Pyrrha?" Jaune tried, his heart sinking. She closed her eyes. "If Ruby is ready, I... I don't feel I'm in a position to doubt her judgment."

"I'm going," Ruby declared, wiping tears from her eyes. "And you can't stop me."

"Can we all rest for now?" Yang interjected, her eyes tracing the group. "We're all pretty tired, honestly, and things might make more sense in the morning. What do you say?"

Nora plopped down. "I'm pooped. I vote yes."

"Then I as well," said Ren.

"We could use some sleep," Pyrrha agreed, lowering her sword to the ground.

"I suppose it's settled," sighed Weiss, though she seemed relieved at the prospect.

She pulled out a bag of holding and withdrew several sleeping bags as well as an assortment of prepared goods. The group ate mostly in silence, too shaken by what had happened to make conversation. When they were finished, Jaune volunteered to take first watch.

"Anyone but her, I suppose," Weiss said, not bothering to reference Blake by name. "I wouldn't feel comfortable sleeping with an Assassin keeping watch."

"Afraid?" Blake snipped back.

"Please..." Jaune sighed. To his surprise, they stopped, turning away from each other.

As group members yawned and crawled into their sleeping bags, he sat by the doors behind them and began a silent vigil.

"I'll take next watch in three hours," offered Ren. "Wake me up."

Jaune nodded.

Ruby had chosen to snuggle up to Yang for warmth, and the two sisters lay lumped atop one another. He closed his eyes. An image of a bestial hand smashing straight through Ruby's chest to the other side hung in his mind, refusing to dissipate. Her horrified eyes staring into his, her ebullient smile crushed forever...

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but the vision returned. Nothing he did could shake the niggling worry in his chest. He couldn't lose Ruby. He couldn't. Mere minutes before, he'd come so close. Could he stomach that risk again?

No.

A decision formed. He stood, walking from one end of the cave to the next. No. He couldn't do it.

"Mmh?" Ruby stirred as he neared the studded metal doors on the other side. "Jaune? Where are you going?"

With one motion, he shoved them open, admitting a passage deep into the core of the Dungeon.

"Jaune!" Ruby screamed, leaping to her feet, but Earthly manacles bound her to the ground. Several more had latched onto the limbs of his teammates, preventing them from moving.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "With how dysfunctional this team has been, I can't afford to lose you. Any of you. Please understand."

"Jaune!" an enraged Yang roared, but he turned, closing the doors behind him. They locked with a magical click and sealed tight. There was no escaping Boss fights. Readying his blade, he moved down the corridor, his only companion the sword in his hand.

=II=

There was a scuffling in the darkness. A grinding of something sharp on solid stone, a screeching, a plodding of massive limbs. As Jaune descended farther and farther in, the air grew musty with humidity.

Boss fight. Jaune almost never attempted any solo. The ones he did were on a significantly smaller scale; the Grimm awaiting him at the end of the dungeon was often a Beowolf or an Elder-Grimm of similar caliber.

That scuffling spoke of padded feet. Probably a Grimm similar to a mammal, then, like an Ursa or a Beringel. He'd vastly prefer the former— Beringels played his game. They possessed the natural instinct to close the distance, grab ahold of their prey, and grapple them down before slicing them apart with a hail of ground and pound claws. The few times he'd faced Beringels, they'd had the body awareness and torsion technique to break the grips of his Earthly Manacles in mere seconds. Needless to say, allowing one to approach at close range was a terrible idea.

The torchlight wavered as he drew closer, and crimson eyes beaded out from the darkness. A growling echoed out like a mutt, but amplified several fold.

The opening appeared right ahead. It'd give way to a large chamber, and once he stepped through, the passage back would be blocked off. There was no escaping final battles.

His sword slid unsheathed.

A shield here would be vastly useful. He didn't have swap tankers to take damage, and hadn't rationed enough money to afford both the planned apartment and a high-quality armament from Samson. In theory, he'd have had more time to grind Grimm and collect cash, and the brief window in which he'd be exposed would be covered by teammates and technique.

He supposed he'd had to make due. In the grand scheme of dungeons, this one certainly stood in the mid-to-upper echelon, at least for an area like Beacon. These were rare, but the rewards were plentiful— provided challengers managed to brave the difficulties involved in clearing them.

Before stepping in, Jaune conducted one last body check. Breathing, heart rate, mental status— all optimal. Or, as optimal as could be expected given the situation.

He stepped through. The exit disappeared behind him.

A lumbering form stepped into the torchlight. Massive, muscled, black fur with a mid-heavy build and squat but powerful limbs: Ursa it was. Jaune heaved a sigh of relief. Between the two most likely possibilities, he'd much rather face this Grimm. Ursa were powerful Elder Grimm, true, but he'd had some experience fighting them before, albeit with Royal Guards to tank. At least he was familiar with their tendencies.

That brief moment of relaxation shattered as something massive shifted out from behind.

_Another one_.

A mating pair of Grimm, male and female?

Not good. Jaune stepped back, putting some distance between him and the two. Multiple attackers were _significantly_ harder challenges. Fighting one several-ton killing machine of muscle and bone was bad enough. Two, with even the slightest amount of coordination?

This would be a long and bloody endeavor— if he managed to survive at all.

And then a Grimm half their size squeezed in between them, two rows of vicious white teeth bared.

A cub.

_You've got to be shitting me_.

=II=

Luckily for him, the cub charged first.

There might have been a hundred feet between them, if that, but the thing covered the distance at a dangerous pace. A sea of Earthly Manacles burst into existence, grabbing and roiling, trying to off-balance or slow the creature, but it somehow maintained the mobility to dodge and weave through while still advancing.

If there was one bright side, it was that this was the optimal outcome for Jaune.

Three on one, especially with all of them being Elder Grimm?

Jaune could count on two hands the fighters he knew of who could survive such an assault.

Grimm, however, had no sense of battle strategy. He needed to capitalize.

The two Ursa parents began a lumbering pace but their limbs weren't nearly as nimble, so his Earthly manacles managed a decent job of slowing them. His efforts bought him a brief window.

The cub needed to die— and fast.

A plan formed in his mind. Kill the cub by expending some resources, sacrificing a blow if necessary. Maintain and attempt to isolate the male first as it was the closer Grimm. If possible, finish it before the female arrives for backup.

The last two steps were hopelessly optimistic; killing an Elder Grimm in such a short span was nigh impossible. But it was the best plan he had— and a bad plan was better than no plan at all.

At this point, the cub had come so close he could hear its frantic panting.

_Void Slash. _

There were no more restrictions on his abilities, no need to hide. Now, he'd unleash it all.

Void Slash— a limited-use Active Skill whose damage-dealing capacity mirrored how much it drained him with every usage.

While not a tear in space, Void Slash was the closest facsimile. It rendered a cleaving, roiling black arc of nothing which flitted through the air, absorbing everything in its path.

As the cub soared through the air, leaping for his throat, he unleashed it.

Direct hit.

The strike caught the cub mid-air and burrowed deep into it, cutting a several-feet-long gash right across its torso.

But somehow, despite almost literally falling apart at the seams, the Grimm still continued its attack.

Contingency.

Paragon's Might flared into existence. His only stat-boosting Active, it granted him a burst of strength, speed, agility, and resistance for a brief period.

Combined with Perfect Strike and his blade became a flash in the air.

The Grimm fell at last.

In almost the same instant, however, a full-powered claw swipe from an angry Ursa hit him square on the side. Dimly, he registered the sound of him ricocheting off of the opposite wall, and then pain flared up in streaks all along his side. Incredibly, that one strike flattened his aura from 90% to near 65%.

Another two or three and he'd be out. Granted, he wasn't going to allow another full-powered blow, but the prospect of taking so much damage unnerved him.

Step one was done, though with some complications.

Now, he needed to isolate the male and hopefully repeat the same feat. The blow it'd struck him came with an inadvertent bonus: it had created some space between him and his attackers. He had a few seconds' recovery time before they reached him.

Paragon's Might waned with every second. How long did he have before he returned to normal? A minute, if that?

First, he needed to artificially separate the two Ursa. Earthly Manacles materialized once more, though this time in large waves surrounding only the female Ursa. The male, unimpeded, reached him first.

Shield of the Heavens flared into existence as its massive pawns swiped down. They struck a golden, auric shield which held under the blow, though it flared under pressure. Other than Blade of the Sky— his crowd control— he'd run the gamut with his Active Skills. Void Rend had one use left with short notice, maybe two if he stretched himself. After that, and he'd be fighting two Elder Grimm with nothing but his sword.

He had a minute left. He'd make it count.

The Shield halted the Ursa for a moment, and Jaune counterattacked. Gone was his usual style, his reflexive tendency for slow, grinding combat. His sword became an instrument of pure destruction, not paying the slightest heed to defense, slashing Perfect Strike after Perfect Strike. His only objective was to dole out as much damage as he could before his Shield collapsed.

Thankfully, his strikes seemed to have an impact. The male Ursa now had several nasty wounds covering its limbs and torso. Another few well-placed strikes, and it would collapse.

Unfortunately, his Shield collapsed first.

A particularly vicious blow tore through the aura manifestation. Jaune, mid-strike, had an instant's notice to decide whether to continue his attack while taking the strike or retreat.

Void Slash, Perfect Strike.

This time, something in him audibly cracked as he absorbed the blow. So did the Ursa's skull.

Black spots filled his eyes as his body carved a crater into the Earth. His limbs felt like jello, diced apart and unable to move. Dimly, he checked his aura— 31%.

He was in critical condition and his body refused to listen to him. The crackling of shattered stone under padded feet, however, reminded him that there was yet another Elder Grimm to go. A herculean effort brought him up to a shaky kneeling position.

Before a massive paw blasted him with an uppercut.

Everything hurt. The world swam. His aura read 12%, and he wasn't sure he'd ever seen it that low. Black began to envelop his vision as even breathing became a challenge.

He was going to die.

No. No. No! Not here, and not in so pathetic a manner. He couldn't do it to Daphne; he couldn't do it to Ruby, who he'd practically betrayed in attempting this; he couldn't do it to Yang or Pyrrha or Nora or Ren or _himself_.

A will beyond anything even he knew he had surfaced just as the final Ursa bore down upon him. He put everything left within him into one last attack as the Ursa descended with two massive blows Jaune had no hope of blocking.

Void… Slash!

=II=

Banging on the doors had been fruitless. Trying to pry them open doubly so. Ruby hopped up and down in frustration, her voice rising to higher and higher pitches as the hour dragged on.

Jaune was fighting _alone _in there. The idiot Knight had decided that soloing the final boss of a Dungeon would somehow protect them, or so she guessed.

"Argghhh!" She slammed a fist against the door and received a smarting red hand as a result.

"That irresponsible, dunderheaded, illogical, stupid dunce—"

Somewhere in the background, Weiss was continuing what must be a world record setting list of adjectives to describe her friend. A friend who could very well be dead behind those doors. She couldn't think like that. No. Nope! He was definitely alive. Any moment now, this dungeon would disappear and Jaune'd appear on the other side, looking all dashing in his armor, not a scratch on him—

"I'm going to kill that moron," Yang spat, her eyes almost literally flaming.

"It's been an abnormally long time," said Ren, sighing. "If the unthinkable happened, we'd be either transported out or given a shot at the boss ourselves. That must mean he's still fighting in there. Jaune's a very capable combatant. I'm sure he can hold his own against most Grimm."

Ruby didn't even think Ren believed himself, but he was doing his best to mollify the increasing tensions in the team. She could appreciate that.

"That's Knights for you," a voice whispered in her ear. Her newest friend, Blake, stood crouched beside her, inspecting the door. "Arrogant. Foolish. Condescending. Stupid."

"Well, he did it to help us," Ruby snapped, turning, her face darkening crimson. "Okay, it was a really, really dumb thing to do and super inconsiderate— like, we don't need to be babied around— but he's not _evil_. Don't talk about him like that!"

The Assassin looked a bit taken aback by her outburst. As soon as that tirade left her mouth, Ruby regretted it. "I— I'm sorry. I guess I'm just really stressed right now."

"I understand."

She directed her gaze to Pyrrha, who sat against the wall, throwing rocks at the ground with a pained grimace on her face. The girl had tried to bash the doors open for a solid twenty minutes. Now, she sat against the door looking crestfallen.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

They opened.

For a moment, they all stared at the crack in shock.

Then they ran for the opening in a frenzy of panicked limbs. "Jaune!" cried Ruby as she

barreled down the tunnel, her speed outpacing the rest of the group.

Blood splattered everywhere, and her heart stopped. But wait… weren't those bodies that of Grimm?

Th-three?!

Pyrrha arrived next and gasped. "Are those… are those all _Ursa?_"

"Ursa?" Yang asked as she ran into the room. "What? Where?"

Ruby had already began sifting through the room. A lock of blonde hair, armor, anything at all! There was so much blood splattered everywhere that it became difficult to distinguish different objects.

Wait, there!

Panting, she ran up to Jaune's form slumped on the ground.

Or, what was left of him.

She'd always thought of Jaune like those statues of ancient Atlesian gods— utterly chiseled, effortlessly handsome, projecting an aura of power and confidence.

Now, he looked as they did today after millennia of wear and tear.

Holes filled the entire side of his face, and gashes cut all the way to the bone. A giant, jagged cut went straight through his eye and up his face. She almost didn't even recognize him. Even the less deformed parts of his face bore the markings of blood and scuffle.

His body wasn't much better. Almost all of his entire left side was blown off, and his arm clung to to his body by sinews of muscle. An entire leg had been cleaved off and was probably lying somewhere in the heap of gore.

"Jaune…"

She didn't even try to hold back the tears.

That goofy Knight would never smile again.

There were others crowding around now, others saying things or pointing or whatever. She didn't know, she didn't care. Something broke in her chest, like a black hole had formed and wrenched all of her organs out of her body. Her arms felt hot and cold all at once.

Then, something shook her. "Ruby. Ruby. Ruby!"

Voices. She wiped her face, but she might as well have done nothing because the tears kept coming.

"Ruby, listen to me! He's alive. Alive!"

"Barely," another voice added.

"H-huh?" she hiccuped, looking up at her sister's concerned face. "W-what?"

Weiss was shoving something golden down his throat as they spoke.

"She has an elixir," Ren whispered, almost in reverence. "Those are practically mythical items for healing. I've never so much as seen an image of one. For her to have it…"

"Elixir? What does it do?" She was almost numb, and her voice came out in an odd croak.

"Supposedly, it can heal any injury, so long as it hasn't reached death," snapped Weiss. "But we'll have to see. I can't promise anything," she added, watching Ruby's expression.

Nothing happened. It had failed. Of course it had, Jaune had so little left of him intact he was practically not even _Jaune_ anymore, what had she been expecting, getting her hopes—

His leg was regrowing. His bones stitched themselves back together, and smooth skin covered them once more. Some sort of magic made a tapestry of his body, fixing and mending and cleaning and restoring.

"It's working," she breathed. "It's working!"

His face healed the slowest. That slash through the eye… she gulped, trembling with a nervous tic. To her relief, the skin there stitched up too.

At the end of it all, save for the massive patches of blood on his torn clothing, he looked almost the same. Almost.

The elixir couldn't fix everything, apparently.

That injury running up from his jaw all the way through his eye had cut deep. It left a souvenir in the form of a thin, red scar running the length of his face in an utterly straight line. She winced. To leave such a trail, that Ursa claw must've come down fast.

But it wouldn't have mattered to her if Jaune had regenerated none of his face. He was alive, and that was more than enough.

=II=

Sunlight woke him up. The soft sensation on his eyelids, the chirping of birds…

Yawning, he pulled himself up, shrugging off a blanket.

Blanket?

His eyes snapped open and he surveyed the room. The last things he remembered were falling, an angry roar, a desperate, final slash…

The hospital room around him most certainly didn't look like a bleak dungeon. They made it out, then. Relief filled him and he settled back into the bed.

"Awake?"

The Priest, Kitsune, smiled at him from behind a clipboard. "Good. You've slept for nearly three days, you know. Weirder thing was, you looked like you do now when you came in. I barely had to do anything."

"As-as I do now?"

The fox faunus held up a handheld mirror.

No bruises, no cuts, no blood, to his amazement.

The only thing that remained at all from the fight was a straight scar running up his face.

"Ah…"

Kitsune stood and stretched, arching her back in a move that accented her curves. Jaune was sure she held the pose a few seconds longer than was necessary— or comfortable.

"Do come again, alright, Jaune?"

She blew him a kiss on the way out.

In almost the same instant, a red blur dashed through the door.

"Ruby!" he cried, smiling.

Her fist connected with his face a second later. It didn't really do much other than surprise him.

"Ruby?"

And then a certain blonde Brawler marched through the door, held him up, and slapped him across the face full-force.

"What were you thinking?" Yang hissed. "Seriously! Were you thinking at all?"

"I— I couldn't lose any of you," he whispered.

"And— and you think we could lose _you_ like that?" cried Ruby, her eyes red.

"Better just me than all of you."

Yang hit him over the head again.

"You're an idiot, Scarface."

"Scarface?"

"How could you possibly think you'd stand a better chance than all of us as a team?!" Yang ranted, ignoring him.

"Because our _team_ was falling apart at the seams!" he contested, growing hot. "Someone would've _died, _Yang."

"You're right," a voice said by the door. Pyrrha stepped in, an unreadable expression on her face. "You did."

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"If not for Weiss wasting an _elixir _on you, you worthless piece of—" Yang seethed, then sighed. "Ugh. I can't do this right now."

His eyes widened as he processed her words. An _elixir_? He wasn't sure even the King of Vale had any in inventory! That kind of item… used on _him_?

It'd take a thousand dungeons worth of exploration to even attempt to justify that cost.

Unbidden, his hands began to grow clammy with sweat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, head drooping. "I'm sorry."

"But you don't regret it?" Ruby replied, her eyes suddenly intense. "Do you?"

If possible, Jaune drooped even more. He didn't need to say anything, but he didn't need to.

"Then it's decided," Pyrrha sighed.

"Huh?"

"We— the whole raiding team— has had a discussion in the time you've been out."

"Y-yeah?"

"We think… it's in the best interest of both you and our party to part ways."

**A/N Due to my being busy with the other story and also having problems writing the second half of this chapter, it's been delayed for a while. But hey, at least I got around to writing the dang thing. **

**As per Canon (if a fanfiction can be called canon), Ruby has started to develop feelings for Jaune. His personality might not be as attractive but he is much better looking than in Canon, so I suppose it balances out? I just want an excuse to keep this plot point, really. **

**Again, no ship promises. **

**I said I'd stick _somewhat_** **to Forged Destiny book 1... I stand by that, even with this pretty large deviation. **


End file.
